


Let Me Fade Away

by mythicalwolfpup



Category: mark fischbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Dark Thoughts, Depression, Gen, Relationship Abuse, Violence, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalwolfpup/pseuds/mythicalwolfpup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are just a girl. Your boyfriend Tony is violent but he controls everything. Even if you escape he has  cut you off from everyone and everything. There is only one way to escape him forever but someone stops you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> A/N  
> This is my first fanfiction so please be nice. Also sorry for all the long paragraphs. I don't know how else to break it up.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be late!” Tony screams at you. You shrink against the wall. 

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time. Its all my fault!”

“God! I don’t know how I put up with you! You can’t even look at your watch! Fucking whore!” With a swat of his arm he strikes you across the face with enough force to spin you to the ground. Your head thunders and your face burns where he struck you and you can feel the swelling and bruisings rising already. The room gently spins and your hands grab at the hardwood floor to steady your world. A trickle of blood comes out of your nose. At the sight of the blood he changes tactics. “Oh baby! You know I didn’t mean to hurt you! You just made me so angry! If you hadn’t stayed out late none of this would have happened!” He crouches next to you, resting a tentative arm on your shoulder. For the first time in a long time you get the words past the block in your throat. 

“Its not my fault you hit me” you say. “I’m breaking up with you. This is the last time I will ever see you. I’m serious” despite your best effort, your voice still sounds weak in your ears and your heart feels like it is about to jump out of your chest. Tony’s face hardens to steel and you wish you could take those war-making words back. The hand on your shoulder tightens until you can’t help a gasp of pain. “Let go” you say, trying to shrug away and stand up to get some space. Tony stands with you and instead of moving away from him, standing just makes it so much clearer how much bigger he is than you. 

“What did you say?” his voice hisses out. The block in your throat is back and you just shake your head, taking another step back but find yourself against the wall. He leans in. “I decide when we are done. You have no say. It is all your fault if you are not happy!” In a single moment of defiance you manage to shake your head no. “WHAT WAS THAT!”Tony screams. Your ears buzz with the sudden noise and the nervous twitch inside you make you squeeze your eyes shut and lean away from the anger that shines in your boyfriends eyes. “WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY? DO YOU WANT TO LEAVE! FINE! LEAVE! GOOD RIDDANCE! Lucky for me this apartment is mine, its under my name. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? If you leave me, you have nowhere to go! NOWHERE! YOU’RE A NOBODY!” Suddenly his hands are around your throat and are squeezing as hard as possible. The pressure is intense and you try to gasp but no air can make its way down your throat. There is a pressure behind your eyes and you can feel the blood struggling against the restrictions to the circulation. Your hands grab his, trying to loosen his grip but you might as well be trying to scratch a cement wall. A flicker of a self defense class from years ago comes to your mind and you scratch at Tony’s face as your vision begins to darken. You need to breathe. “BITCH!” Tony screams as you scratch his neck. The next thing you know is you are on the ground. Air comes finally through your throat and you cough loudly, touching the stinging skin on your neck where his hands were holding you. 

Tony is on a rampage, running around the room. You recognize dazedly that he is breaking your stuff. First he has your purse and you can’t make a whimper of protest as he rips out your wallet, takes the cash inside, putting it in his pocket and pulls out your credit card. “YOU WON’T BE NEEDING THIS NOW!” he screams, thoroughly out of control. Then a pair of scissors is in his hand and he cuts your credit card in half. “THERE!” he screeches in triumph. Next he has your drivers license and with one slash of the scissor blades your ride to freedom is also cancelled. He turns your purse upside down, grabbing your phone and throwing it across the room where the screen shattered on impact. “YOU WANT TO LEAVE ME? ME?!” He screams another set of angry unintelligible noises and races to the hallway. You know where he is going. Your room. Your only sanctuary in this strange city away from friends, relatives and anyone besides Tony. Tony doesn’t approve of new friends. You know he is going to wreck your room. It has happened before, toppled desk and mattress, clothing ripped, computer broken. Back then you thought it was your fault. Back then you tried to stop him. Not this time. This is your chance. 

Without stopping to think for too long, you pick yourself up awkwardly, glancing over your shoulder to see if he can see you. You can hear the sounds of anger and destruction coming from your room. Your heart beat picks up as you dash to the door, your legs shaking and open the door as quietly as possible so he doesn’t know what you are doing. A quiet sob breaks from your lips and you bite it off. If he catches you now you will never get away. Out into the quiet hallway of the apartment building. It is close to 1:30 am so none is around. Again you close the door as quietly as possible, then race down the hallway, down the stairs, across the dark lobby and out into the city night. You don’t notice you are crying until the chilly night breeze cools the wetness on your face. You take deep gulps to try and stop from breaking down. If he looked out the window right now… 

With that thought you start running down the sidewalk. Your bare feet slap the sidewalk. During the day this street is busy but right now you can only see one car in the distance. You run and run and run, barely looking to see which streets you are running down. The only thought in your mind is “away”. You finally stop to catch your breath and take a look at your surroundings to find yourself in a completely different part of the city. A park is to your right, the dim lights of the streetlights making the empty benches look ghostlike. Despite the creepiness, it is better than being back at that horrible apartment and you take a moment to collect yourself. 

What Tony was saying was true. The apartment lease was in his name. As was the bank account. Your phone was still back at that place, probably broken into pieces. Even if you did have a phone, who would you call? You hadn’t talked to your parents since the big argument a year ago and even your attempts at talking to them had left you holding an empty phone. Tony had made sure you cut off your communications with your old friends from back home and without your phone you wouldn’t be able to remember any of their numbers anyway. Tony controlled everything. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. He controls everything. You are lost in a big city and don’t know how to find your way around. You don’t have anywhere to go or anyone to reach out to. You are utterly alone and any minute now Tony will be out in his car, searching the streets for you. 

‘Its hopeless’. you think to yourself. ‘I can’t escape. This is my best try and I am stuck here with nothing to do and nowhere to go’. The fear that you feel dissolves slowly into nothing. No hope. No fear. You sigh. Well, there is one way out. A way he can never hurt you again. The bruise on your face and neck tingle slightly to clarify this. This time there is no angel on your shoulder pointing to a different way, just an inner monologue commentating. “You got yourself into this mess. You can get yourself out. Go find a bridge”. 

Of their own accord your feet start walking. You are not afraid. Why would you be? When life is a living death, death is not a foe. You reach a part of the city where the only lights spill from a brightly colored bar. In the block beyond, there is a bridge that crosses a wide and deep river. As you pass the bar, you can hear music spilling out along with the many sounds of voices. If anything it makes you feel more alone and more convinced in your path. A couple of people spill out of the bar behind you, grouping together under the street light. 

The sidewalk hugs the cement railing of the bridge, and you walk up the incline to a place where you are sure the drop is long enough. Your bare feet throb in the cold. Even in the darkness of night and streetlamps you can see the water swirling. The cement wall feels cool and rough under your hands. There is a dim streetlight and you use it as a support to clamber up onto the wall. The dark void to the water reaches out in front of you. One hand still on the lamp post you move your feet closer to the edge. There is no nervousness tingling in your stomach. Your eyes lift to the peaceful open sky and your arms lift like wings. You shift your weight forward, ready to fall into nothingness. 

Instead, arms grab you roughly around your waist and you fall back into someone. You are still alive. For a second you think it is Tony yet again stopping you from escaping him but the “Oof” from whoever pulled you back onto the sidewalk doesn’t sound like Tony. A stab of rage fills you. So close! So close to escaping this hell! Just beyond this wall is the answer and this stranger has stopped you from reaching your freedom. 

“What do you think you are doing!?” yells the strangers voice. 

“Let me go!” You cry. You stagger up to your feet and grab the wall again, a knee already up on top when the stranger grabs you again, pulling you down to sit against the wall. “NOOOO!” you scream, batting at the arms that wind around you. “I NEED TO JUMP. I NEED TO JUMP!” Suddenly you are sobbing, red tears of frustration leaking out. The one time someone is trying to help you and they actually stop you from finishing your goal. “I need to jump” you repeat over and over. The stranger is rocking you gently and you notice the manly smell coming off him. Not like the harshness of beer and cigarettes like Tony but softer, warmer. His arms don’t hold you crushingly close like Tony would have and there are no harsh words coming from him. No words at all except a quiet shushing, comforting noise every once and awhile. You realize your eyes have been squeezed shut since your second unsuccessful attempt at jumping. Your sobs have died down now, although tears still stream from your eyes. You open your eyes to see the person who was holding you and are surprised to see there is a group of people surrounding the two of you. Worried faces swim through the tears. The man holding you has dark hair and is wearing a red flannel shirt. A woman is crouched down next to the two of you and is holding out a water bottle. 

“Drink this, honey” she commands. Her motherly tone reminds you of your own mother and the tears come faster and you start shaking. Or maybe you have been shaking this whole time and have only now realized it. The man holding you takes the water bottle from the woman and offers it to you. Feeling the eyes of the group of strangers on you, you hesitantly take a sip. The cool water traces a calm trail through you. You can’t stop shaking. The moment to jump is over and you have no idea if it will present itself again. Right now, even the thought of Tony searching for you can’t make you feel much at all. Your body humms with sleepiness and exhaustion. The man with his arms around you relaxes his hold slightly. “If I let go, are you going to try to jump again?” he asks. His voice is soothing even though a worried note threads through it. You slowly shake your head no, resting your exhausted head against the railing/wall you were so eager to jump over. You are so very tired. The man changes positions, kneeling at your side. “What’s your name?” He asks softly. You don’t answer. Your name is not important. You just want to sleep but these strangers are keeping you awake. 

“Honey, do you have anyone we can call for you?” the woman who offered the water asks. This time you shake your head no, and that movement causes fresh tears to form in your eyes. you take a moment of self-reflection and realize you must look like utter crap. “Do you have anywhere to go?” She asks. You shake your head again, staring past the group of people. You know besides the man who still had his arm around you and the woman crouched at your side that there are several more people, loosely surrounding you as if you were the epicenter of an earthquake. Normally this amount of people focused on you with the attention people usually reserve for car crashes would make you feel uncomfortable but with your body still shaking and the cold night air around you, you feel oddly dissociated from yourself. 

A few raindrops fall from the sky and the mood of the group subtly changes. “She’s freezing” the man says to the group and he glances at your bare feet. You realize your teeth are chattering. The rain grows steadier and you realize that with your t-shirt and shorts you have no protection from the cold. ‘Maybe I can just freeze’, you think, exhausted. 

A new voice speaks up from the circle, who you guess is a group of friends. “If she has no place to go, we could bring her back to our place. We can’t leave her out here”. The woman nods solemnly. You can feel the group looking at you but are not sure if they are looking for confirmation of disapproval. You still feel surprisingly nothing. Maybe a slight curiosity at why these strangers would think about giving you a place to stay. 

As if realizing you are not going to make the decision for them, the woman speaks up and takes charge. “Alright sweetie, you are coming back with us, Okay?” You sit there mutely. They mean it. They are going to give you a place to stay for the night. A sense of gentle wonder creeps up and a new batch of tears leaks out of your eyes. You give a single nod. “Okay” she says to the group. “Wade, go get the car. The rest of you meet back at the house.” With a sense of purpose the group breaks up except for the woman and the man on either side of you. “Stand up honey” the woman tells you, and with a hand under your elbow she tugs at you. The man next to you stands up slowly. Your eyes feels like sand but your body is still shaking horribly. The cold rain dashes against your skin. Your knees are weak and you have to grab the man next to you as you start to fall.  
“Easy now, careful!” he says. In the dim streetlight you can hardly make out their faces. A car pulls up and the woman and man lead you towards it. You send one shaky look back to the railing of the bridge. You could still jump. No more confusion. No more pain. No more worries. “Come on honey,” the woman voice says. You notice the mans hand holding your arm got just a little tighter to make sure you don’t try to make a break for it. He accidentally brushes an old bruise and through your chattering teeth you hiss in air just a bit. They help you into the backseat. It is a really nice car. the woman buckles you in as if you were a child again before slamming the door. She sits next to you in the backseat and the man joins the driver in the front. you rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes as the car starts to move. 

You wake suddenly when the car rolls into a driveway. There is a house there. it takes you a second to remember who you are with as the woman chimes softly “we’re here”. Your shaking has mostly stopped but your fingers and toes are numb with cold even though you are sweating slightly. You manage to unbuckle your own seatbelt but your door is opened by the man wearing flannel. He helps you out of the car, and in your tired state you don’t mind really. Your knees are still weak. “My name is Mark by the way”, he says as you head up with him an the other two towards the cheery looking house, your naked feet cold enough to not feel the roughness of the pavement. The door is opened and you stumble inside. You close your eyes agains the cheery light that greets you, too bright compared with the dark of the night. You hear a startled breath from the man called Mark as he can clearly see your face for the first time and the bruises that come with it. “What happened?” he asked. 

The woman nudged him and scolded “questions later, we need to warm her up or she is going to get hypothermia”. You squint around through the brightness to see an open entryway that led off the a living room on one side with stairs up to a second floor on the opposite wall. Through another doorway You can see what you assume is the kitchen. The same group as before was standing there again, staring. This time you feel a bit self-conscious. The woman leads you across the entry-hall, and up the stairs. Another woman detaches herself from the group to join. Mark tries to follow but the first woman tells him firmly “ we need to get her changed into a dry set of clothes. I think you should wait down here.” He nods and you follow the women sleepily up the stairs and into a soft room. It is hard to concentrate, even given the strange room and somehow you find yourself in a foreign but large and warm shirt, a pair of warm sweatpants and fuzzy purple socks. The two women have you drink a glass of water and have you lay down in a twin size bed that was in the room. They cover you with the quilt. You have a moment to think that this is the most comfortable bed in the world. Before the lights are even off, you are off to dreamland.


	2. Momentary Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon waking in a strange house, you face a hard choice; Stay in relative safety or leave before you owe these people too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Many thanks to my sister who helped me edit this.
> 
> (note: Bob is with Mandy, Molly is with Wade) (Dan and Arin are the Game Grumps)

You take a deep calm breath in, stretching slightly, reluctant to leave the warm and peaceful land of sleep. But this is not your bed. A jolt of anxiety hits you and your eyes fly open to reveal a small cozy room. Staring at the pastel walls, it takes just a second to remember what happened the night before. These people, random strangers taking you in. Can you trust them? Another voice overtakes the anxiety. Trust them? What would they take from you? You have no money and no place to stay, no job, no friends. They are as good as any strangers outside. You sink your head back into the pillow and a calm homey scent wafts around you. These people gave you shelter and a really comfortable bed. You sigh as you think of this. Now you owe them something. But you have nothing to give. You will have to leave soon, get out of their hair. 

But where to go? Your mind draws a blank and you just lay in bed for several minutes. Your goal for so long had been to escape Tony. Now you know that there is no escape possible. Even now, the option of going back to him weighs on your mind. If you go back to him now he will be mad, and he’ll only get more angry the longer you stay away. How long can you really stay away before he finds you? Oh God, what have you done? Amid the chaotic thoughts you somehow command your body to sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. The clock on the bedside table tells you the time is 12:30pm. 

Hunger gnaws your insides. As your feet hit the floor you grow curious of your surroundings. From just this room you can tell this is a nice house. Hopefully you can find your clothes from yesterday, grab something from their fridge and leave before any of them notice you are awake. You cross the room, staggering slightly when you realize how sore your legs are from the unexpected marathon the night before. The door is shut all the way and you turn the knob, peeking out into a hallway. Across from you is a small bathroom and you suddenly realize you need to pee. You swiftly cross the hallway, nervously checking both ways for other human inhabitants, closing and locking the bathroom door. After doing your business you are washing your hands with the sweet-smelling bar of soap, but get distracted by the girl in the mirror. 

Her hair is greasy and uncombed, eyes puffy and wearing a shirt that is too big. A bruise swelters on the side of her face, reaching from the corner of her mouth to the edge of her right eye. There is a hint of dried blood around her nostril as well. A necklace of yellowish bruises are just visible above her collar. With a start, you realize that you are her. You gently touch the tender skin of your cheek and your eyes tingle with unshed tears but you stubbornly force them back. You feel ugly. Quickly you comb your fingers through your hair to quell your bedhead and turn away from the mirror that shows how disgusting you look. Now you really hope no one sees you on your way out. You sneak down the hallway, fluffy purple socks muffling your footsteps as you creep down the stairs, hoping against hope that none creak and give you away. 

You walk into the kitchen and freeze. Mark, the man from the night before is sitting there at the bar, a mostly empty plate in front of him. He turns when you enter and your eyes meet. “Hi,” he says after a moment and then turns his head towards another doorway. “Molly! She’s awake!” He turns back to meet your eyes as muffled voices come from the previously quiet room. “Did you sleep well? Molly has been waiting for you to wake up so she can mother you again.” His voice holds just a hint of amused warning. The woman from the night before hurries out of the side room to where you are standing. 

“Thats because she needs a little mothering,” Molly clucks back at Mark. In the light of day she doesn’t look more than a year or two older than you. Same with Mark. “Come on, I’ll heat you up some food.” She leads you over to the bar where you sit next to Mark. Within a minute there is a plate in front of you and you shovel food into your mouth without really tasting it. You shake your head when she offers to get you more. They are not acting like they expect you to leave and so you sit, unsure what to do, on your stool, empty plate in front of you. “I ran the clothes you were wearing yesterday through the wash. I hope thats okay.” Molly points to a pile of clothes on the end of the counter. 

You nod, going and grabbing the pile. You clear your throat. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll just change and then be on my way again.” You can’t bring yourself to look at them. You were never good at saying goodbye. 

“You can’t leave,” Mark says obviously surprised with my plan. “Not yet. Do you have anywhere to go? Do you need a ride? You don’t even have shoes!” 

Molly shakes her head at him, obviously thinking he is lacking tact. “Honey, you don’t have to leave yet. Why don’t you take a shower and then we can sit down and talk? We can figure out where to go from there.” From anybody else those words would have sounded patronizing but from her they just sound like she really cares. 

You feel the decision like a struggle in your head. Do you go back to him now or do you wait a couple of hours in this nice house before confronting the anger you know is waiting for you? ‘The anger you brought on yourself by running away like a coward’ a voice in your head speaks. You sigh thinking about how nice a shower would be. And these people are so nice. My god, do you owe them everything. But their faces, looking hopefully at you ultimately choose for you. You nod at Molly, agreeing with her plan. “OK” you say slowly. “I guess a shower does sound nice.”

________

You sit in a comfortable chair, back in the familiar clothes. You brush your damp hair back with one hand and sip at the spicy tea Mark made you. You are in the large living area of the house, and the people from the night before are arranged around the room. Mark sits off to your right and Molly sits off to your left. You have been introduced to everyone else. There are four men other than Mark, named Wade, Bob, Dan and Arin plus the second woman who helped you yesterday, Mandy. All of them joke back and forth, talking and laughing as if they are old friends. From the conversations around you, you gather that this house belongs to Mark, Dan and Arin, but the others are visiting from out of state. 

The room grows quiet and you are suddenly reminded of an intervention. But typically the people who are intervening know the subject. You start picking quietly at a loose thread in the chair with the hand not occupied with the tea mug, avoiding looking at them. Mark starts. “I guess we should start with the basics” he says. “You know our names but we don’t know yours”. You take a deep breath. 

“My name is (Y/N). I am currently 23. New to the city,” you say. Well, partially true. You have been here almost 6 months but the city might as well be completely new. 

“How did you get those bruises?” Molly asks calmly. 

“I fell,” you reply instantly by reflex, but then bite your lip. Why aren’t you being honest with the people trying to help you?

“Onto your throat?” Bob asks skeptically. You look down at your mug of tea but don’t say anything. There is a moment of silence and you can feel them staring, knowing that you are keeping the truth from them. A worm of anxiety squirms in your belly. What if they decide you are untrustworthy and throw you out?

Mark takes the conversation in a different direction. “Why were you on that bridge last night?” 

You avoid the question he is really asking and answer “I was running and ended up there.” 

“Were you honestly trying to kill yourself?” he asks. The room stills around you from the heaviness of that question.

You feel a moments hesitation but look up to see his calm brown eyes looking at you with concern rather than judgement. Suddenly you want to tell them the truth. “Yes,” you say, “dying would make things simpler. I don’t see a lot of options. I really don’t have anyone. No friends, my parents don’t want to talk to me. I don’t have any money. I don’t even have shoes.” You laugh without a lot of humor. You take a deep breath and talk on, being more honest now than you have ever been, your voice shaking just a little bit from the vulnerability you feel. “You guys taking me in last night and being so nice to me makes me feel like I owe you a lot but I have nothing to give. Nothing. And that makes me feel like crap. After I leave here, I have two options. I can either go back home or I can go back to that bridge and finish what I started. And I really don’t want to go back home.” A heavy silence follows, ringing in your ears. 

“There is another option,” Molly says softly “You could stay here a couple of days.” It takes a moment for you to realize that she is serious. You manage to sputter but no words come out. Everybody else in the room is nodding.

“We have a spare bedroom,” Mark says. “We have a big enough place to have you stay here too. We can get you back on your feet. You can have some time to think.” The offer sits heavily in the air of the room. The smell of temptation. Inside, you are battling with your feelings. Are these people serious? Don’t they know you are useless? Don’t they know that you are just a nobody? The thread in the chair snags on a stitch as you pick at it. Absently you think that maybe it is not such a good idea to destroy the furniture. 

After a minute of your internal battle, Wade speaks up. “What’s holding you back? Seems like a pretty good deal.” You look up at him but see from his calm face that he means the question sincerely. 

“I don’t want to feel like a charity case,” you surprise yourself by saying, at the same moment realizing that it is true. “Why are you guys even being so nice to me? I don’t think anybody has ever been this nice to me.”

“You said before that you had no friends,” Mark said as an answer. “Now you have us, and you’re not a charity case. We’re just helping out a friend. So, will you stay with us? Because we would love to have you.” He smiles at you and you feel tears prickle your eyes. This time though, they are tears of happiness. The thread pulls loose from the chair. 

You find yourself nodding. “Okay, I’ll stay” you choke out gratefully, and look at the beaming faces around you.


	3. Introductions Go Awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a decision gives you some stability, but what happens when Tony finds you with your new friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is not a very long chapter but don't worry. The next one will be longer. Again, thanks to my sister who helped me edit this. Any and all feedback is appreciated.

Just hours after your decision to stay, you are in the car with Molly, Wade and Mark to go shopping for clothes. You have an extra pair of Molly’s sandals on your feet. Molly has promised to buy everything on the condition that you will pay her back when you get a job. Things are looking brighter than they have in a really long time. You have a place to stay for a little bit. You have time to make a plan. 

The car pulls into the parking lot of a nearby mall and everyone gets out. Then you are whisked from store to store, through dressing rooms, reemerging with bags over your arm and a tentative smile on your face. “This has to be enough!” you laugh as Molly points at yet another store, but she drags you towards it regardless. Wade and Mark follow with grins. After that store Molly finally admits triumph and the four of you agree to return to Mark’s house for dinner with the rest of the party.

It is when you are walking back into the parking lot that you see him. He is on his way out of the drug store, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand. Without realizing it you stop walking and Mark runs into you. 

“What’s up?” Mark asks confused. 

You can’t manage to speak his name but your lips sound it out regardless. “Tony.” As if you had hailed him at full volume Tony looks up, straight at you. A mixture of recognition and fury dance across his face and he changes directions so he is walking right towards you. 

“What are you looking at?” Mark asks trying to follow your line of sight. He sees Tony walking towards you purposefully, his face now arranged into an agreeable mask. “Do you know him?” Mark asks, unconsciously moving in front of you with his hand stretched out as if to keep Tony away. You motion him to step away, afraid Tony could turn his temper on him if threatened, but Mark doesn’t move. 

Wade and Molly have realized you are no longer with them and turn around as Tony reaches you. “Baby! I’ve been so worried! Are you alright?” He dodges Mark’s arm to give you a hug that is too tight. You stiffen and cringe away from him, the bags holding the new clothes slipping to the asphalt with plastic crunches. He smells like cigarettes and cheap beer, a familiar scent. He pulls away but subtly keeps a tight grip on your elbow. “Come on home with me. We have a lot to talk about”. You know what he is up to. He wants to make it seem like you are both fine, try to get you to go back to him. Now that he is here, the temptation to do the easy thing and leave with him is overwhelming. You look at Mark’s anxious face, as he tries to figure out what is going on. You realize you trust him more than Tony, even though you’ve only known him for a day.

The lump in your throat threatens to make it impossible to talk but you take a deep breath. “Let go, Tony. I’m not going back with you”. Although his smile stays the same, his eyes harden to steel and the grip on your elbow painfully tightens. “Tony, you’re hurting me!” you gasp, trying to pull away.

“Let her go!” orders Mark but Tony is already dragging you along.

“I know you’re still angry, Baby, but we can talk about it at home. We are leaving,” he hisses, barely keeping up his public charade as he pulls on your arm. You lean away from him and feel Mark’s warm hand on your shoulder pulling you back towards safety. 

“What are you doing?” Mark demands furiously, glaring at Tony. The latter turns and shoots a warning glance at Mark.

“I am going home with my girlfriend!” On the last word he wrenches you forwards and even though Mark has a good grip on your shoulder you are pulled free with so much strength that you are hurtled to the pavement, skinning your hands, knees and elbows as you try to catch yourself. As if knowing his good boyfriend cover is blown Tony starts yelling at Mark and at you. “Who are you supposed to be? Who is he (Y/N)? Are you cheating on me, is that it? Dirty slut!” On the last word his boot connects with your ribcage and your attempt at kneeling is pushed firmly back into the pavement. You hear Molly make a startled, worried noise and you can feel Tony pulling back his foot to give you another kick. But it doesn’t come and above you, you can hear a scuffle. Nervously you look up to see Mark, Wade and Molly pulling Tony away from you by force. Tony staggers back as they release him. 

“Leave now or I’m calling the cops” Wade commands. The three of them stand like a wall between his stalking, hulking anger and your crouching, bleeding form. Tony’s eyes shift to yours and the hatred inside of them shocks you a little. “Worthless bitch!” he snarls and slinks over to his truck, driving away with a squeal of tires. Your friends reach you as you sit up gingerly, sitting amidst the group of discarded shopping bags. Your breath catches at the sight of your bleeding knees and you hug your arm close to your injured side. 

“Are you alright?”  
“What hurts?”   
and “Do you need a doctor?” come at you in full force.

“I’m okay,” you manage, then sigh slightly through the shocked thickness in your throat. “I guess the introductions got skipped a little. That was Tony. He used to be my boyfriend.” The last word comes out as a half-sob and you bury your face in your hands and start crying. 

“You’re alright now,” Molly says soothingly. Somehow the bags get collected and you find yourself in the car, silent sobs still shaking you despite your best efforts to quell them. Mark finds a package of unopened tissues in the glove box and passes them to you. 

As Wade gets into the car you can just barely hear him say “I really wish I got a good punch in before he left, goddamn bastard.”

A small warmth sneaks into your heart. You have friends now and they actually care.


	4. A Dream Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even away from Tony, your past continues to haunt you. Are you sure you want to stay away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Any and all feedback is appreciated greatly. Thanks again to my lovely sister for looking this chapter over for errors.

You know you are dreaming because your house is peaceful and your mother is smiling. You are just a child. She leans down and envelopes you in her warmth, a tight hug which you welcome because your mom gives the best hugs. “You should go back to him,” she whispers. 

You nod sleepily, “Yes, Mark is really nice.”

She laughs as if you have said the funniest thing ever, throwing her head back and clutching her sides. “No, silly! I mean Tony. That sweet boy!” 

Suddenly the mood in your dream shifts and you are reliving the past. You stand at the counter nervously while she checks the pie in the oven. She continues her thought. “I guess, I don’t know why you are so mean to him!” 

You sigh, a part of you suffocating inside, desperately wanting her to believe you. “Mom, really, I just don’t think he’s that great a guy…” 

She suddenly straightens up and turns to look at you, hands on her hips. “Really (Y/N), where is this coming from? I think you’re just scared of commitment! When I was your age, senior year of college, I had already been dating your father for several years. Now look, you are 22 years old. You need a man. With the economy like it is, do you really think you can get a job with your major? Thats why you need someone like Tony. He already has a job. He can take care of you. The chance that you would meet a boy like that is the only reason we let you study that subject at all!”

The now-familiar lump in your throat forms and you stubbornly push past it to say “But mom, he can be really mean.” You are about to tell her that he hit you once and that you don’t want to let him choose what you can wear but your mom interrupts.

“You are such a little wimp sometimes. Are you sure that you didn’t do anything wrong? Being with that kind of man means you have to give up with some bad habits.”

The scene shifts and you are sitting in the living room after having a similar conversation with your father and feeling hopeless. Nowadays you always feel hopeless and useless. Like a waste of space or like a used up toy, no longer holding any purpose in the world. Suddenly, the doorbell rings and you open the door to see Tony, dressed in a really nice suit, hair slicked back. You can smell his signature cologne and he carries a single red rose in his hand. His smile is easy and you find your knees weak, unsure whether or not it is because you are scared of him or you are in love with him. 

“Hey, baby. I know we are technically broken up but I love you and I need you. Please, take me back! I’ll make it up to you!” You look up into his face to see hope in his eyes and that cute little grin that had you crushing on him not that long ago. Your heart melts slightly. Maybe the problems you had in the past with him will now be better. Mentally you swear to work harder on the relationship. “I have a present for you!” Tony seems to suddenly remember and pulls out a small box from his pocket. He opens it. Nestled inside are two small diamond posts that glitter in the daylight. 

You stomach squeezes with excitement. They must have cost a fortune! Maybe your parents are right. If he is willing to spend this kind of money on you…but next comes a tingle of confusion. “But I don’t have my ears pierced!” you say, embarrassed. He stiffens then relaxes just as quickly, brushing the problem aside.

“Thats fine! Tomorrow I can take you to get your ears pierced. I want to see you wearing my present as soon as possible. That is, if you agree to be my beautiful girlfriend!” You nod, swallowing back your confession of not wanting your ears pierced and hating needles. He bought you this wonderful gift and that means you should wear it at least once. 

“Yes, I would love to.” You look up into his face as you hear the excited squeal from the other room, where your mother was clearly eavesdropping. You decide you must love him. Maybe you even trust him. 

Your dream changes yet again to the scene outside the mall, and this time you want to go with Tony. Mark and his friends are keeping you back. You yell at them to leave you alone but nothing fazes them. Suddenly Mark jumps on Tony, pounding him into the ground with his fists. You shriek at him to stop. Somehow Tony and Mark keep switching places as if they are both people at once. You beg for them to stop hurting each other. The dream swirls with confusion and fear.

“Wake up!” says a voice in your ear, sending you rising through the confusing darkness and into the waking world. You are drenched in sweat and Mark is kneeling by your bed. The clock reads 6:30 AM. Your heart is pounding and the dream fades away into confusion and mist. “Are you okay? You were yelling” Mark says, his eyes concerned. His hair is tousled as if he has just gotten out of bed and you realize that he is still in his pajamas. 

“Sorry,” you manage to squeak, embarrassed. “It was just a dream. I’m fine. Did I wake you?” 

He shakes his head. “You sure you’re okay?” 

You nod. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me. Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Mark says. He gets up. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” He leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. You rest your head against the pillow, calming down slightly from the dream and the sudden wakening. Jeez, your second night here and you are already making a nuisance of yourself. You know somehow that you will not be able to fall asleep again.

A split second of memory from your dream surfaces and you snatch at it. Your mom was in the dream. And you loved Tony. You reflect on those two recollections. Why are you dreaming about Tony and your mother? You picture Tony’s face. Not the mean one that he wears whenever you do something wrong, or the hating one from the day before, but the really kind one. The one he wears playing with his nephew and the one he wears while calling you beautiful. Your heart melts a little, a twinge in your chest. You bring your hand up to rub your face and you sit up. You still love Tony. After everything he has done. A little voice in the back of your head speaks up; ‘Well he wouldn’t have done those things if you hadn’t been so worthless, doing everything wrong.’ You stubbornly push back against the voice in your head but it doesn’t give ground. You sigh. 

You remember your mom was in the dream as well. A pang of homesickness hits you. Maybe this time she might be different. 

You get out of bed, brushing your bedhead hair with your fingers into a reasonable shape and shuffle downstairs. Mark is in the middle of getting himself a bowl of cereal when you enter the kitchen. You stand awkwardly, not sure how to ask the favor. “Hey, Mark?” you start with. He looks up. “Could I use your phone?” you ask. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he replies immediately, taking it from the counter where it was charging overnight and handing it to you. 

“Thanks,” you say and hurry into the living room for some privacy. Given the time zones, your mom should be up already so before you can dissuade yourself, you punch in the number for your parent’s home phone, listening with growing anticipation and anxiety as the rings go on. 

The voice startles you. “Hello! This is the (L/N)’s residence, may I ask who is calling?” 

“Mom,” you manage. “It’s me. (Y/N).” 

You mom’s voice changes instantly to a resigned and slightly hostile tone. “Ah. New phone?” Her words are short and clipped and each one hurts a little. You mom used to be the best before she met Tony and thought he was perfect.

You clear your throat. “No, mom. It’s a friend’s.” That horrible lump in your throat catches you again and you can’t say a word. 

“Well?” comes the voice, clearly not okay with waiting forever. 

Afraid that she will hang up if you don’t say anything you fight down the lump in your throat and spit out the biggest problem. “Mom. Just listen okay? I broke up with Tony. I don’t want to be with him anymore. He’s mean and he hit me. He gets so angry. I am staying at a friend’s house temporarily but I was hoping that you could possibly send me some money or something. I’m just feeling really alone and I need you.” 

There is a hostile silence from the other side of the phone and the hope that your mom has changed her mind is dissolved with the first few words. “I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense from you, young lady. You are being incredibly selfish, asking for money! You know, once you get passed all of this show, you should call Tony and apologize. I’m sure you are worrying him to death.” 

You usually sit back and let her lecture as she usually does. She never believes you and your plan to have her on your side is slowly falling to bits. She doesn’t know the whole story and she won’t hear it. Maybe you need to make her listen. In an attempt to shock reality back into her, you cut in before she can really get her lecture going. “Mom, do you know what being with him made me do? I was going to kill myself. I was going to jump off a bridge because I couldn’t stand him controlling me anymore!” You somehow manage to not raise your voice. Yelling will only make her hang up and you still hold to the possibility that you will be able to change her mind and convince her of your innocence. 

“Really, (Y/N), you are so dramatic. If you had really wanted to kill yourself we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we? You’re just looking for attention like you always are. I don’t know how Tony puts up with you, that poor boy. And back to what you were talking about before, of course we won’t send you any money. Who knows what you would spend it on, a mind like yours!”

A fog of resignation fills you. It was stupid to expect anything from her, especially a change in opinion. “I’m not being dramatic. Can I at least talk to Dad?” Maybe you can convince him. But your mom seems to read your thoughts.

“Are you serious right now? Do you seriously think that his answer will be any different? Why would you even think about going behind my back like that when I’ve already told you my answer? Now, I don’t want to hear from you again until you do the right thing and go back to Tony. It’s where you belong.”

A click sounds in your ear. “Mom?” you ask into the empty phone, then drop it to your side. You stare up at the ceiling, stubbornly refusing to let the frustrated tears leave your welling eyes. Maybe she’s right. He had only kicked you yesterday because he misread the situation and was jealous of Mark. For some reason, you can’t find any righteous anger against him after the talk with your mom. Maybe it is all in your head. 

You hear a sound behind you and turn to see Mark standing there, a startled look on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in. I was just…” He trails off as he sees the tears in your eyes. “Sorry, I should go. I didn’t mean to listen in. Sorry.” He turns awkwardly to go and you find your voice. 

“No it—it’s fine. No problem. I don’t care. Really. I already know my family is messed up. Don’t leave.” There is a moment of silence where you look at him standing in the doorway. He still looks unsure whether he should leave you alone or if he is in trouble. “How much did you hear?” You ask, slightly curious in a morbid kind of way. 

“Basically all of it.” He admits, embarrassed. 

You nod. “Well, now you know why I didn’t call anyone that night. They are the only ones I could call and they hate me.”


	5. A Shared Cup of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Mark hears something he isn't supposed to, you decide to open up about your past. Why do you trust these strangers so much?

Silence follows your definitive statement and you awkwardly hand the phone back to Mark. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything.

“They can’t hate you.” Mark says quietly. 

You shrug. “Maybe not, but then they love Tony more than me.” 

There is another silence and you twist your hair to do something with your hands. “Would you like some coffee?” Mark asks. You nod and head back into the kitchen with him. He pours you a mug and you add half and half until you get the right color. Mark goes back to his bowl of cereal. 

After a moment he speaks up from next to you. “So, I’m not trying to intrude, but I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything…how did this whole thing start?” He shifts uncomfortably and quickly adds “I mean, if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine.”

As you stare at your coffee, feeling his eyes on you, the same feeling of trust fills you that you felt yesterday. You can’t help the words as they come pouring therapeutically out. “I met Tony my senior year of college. We were the same age and he was in one of my classes. I actually developed this huge crush on him and didn’t think he even noticed me. Because, well, who would notice a nobody like me?” You chuckle self-consciously. 

“You’re not a nobody,” Mark cuts in, then mutters “Sorry, carry on” when you turn to look at him.

You do. “He really surprised me by asking me out. When my parents found out I was dating someone they were ecstatic. They met him once and decided then and there that he could do no wrong. His parents had money, a lot of money, but he was skating through school on a full ride. He had a job lined up for when he got out of college in a branch of his father’s business. Basically, to my parents, he was sent from heaven to be my soulmate.” You sigh as you think about it. Tony was pretty perfect. He had the perfect life and the perfect plans. His huge mistake had been you.

Mark stayed quiet, listening attentively as you carried on with your story. “I broke up with him a couple of times but somehow we always ended up back together again. All of a sudden, plans were made to get an apartment together once school got out, and we moved here.” You pause for a second, wondering whether to keep talking. You glance over at Mark to see if he looks bored but he is paying attention with something like a caring interest on his face. The scene from yesterday comes to mind and you carry on. “Tony is a good guy. I do stupid things that make him really mad and he gets out of control but thats not his fault, its mine. I’m a mess-up, always have been. I’m really just too weak and scared to go face him and make-up.” 

You sit in silence for a few moments, nursing your warm mug between your hands but this time it’s not an awkward silence. Mark finally speaks. “You know, you don’t strike me as a very weak person. I think you’re actually really stubborn, in a good way. I’m not going to tell you what to do, ‘cause that would just be stupid, but I think whatever you really want to do, you can do. That may sound cheesy as all get out, but I mean it. You can do whatever you want.” 

You blink in surprise at the unexpected comment. “Thanks,” you say, really meaning it. Mark smiles around a bite of cereal, making you chuckle. “This is the most I have shared in a very long time,” you confess. “I barely know you too, which is the weird thing. I mean, you know so much about me and I basically just know your name.” You bite your lip nervously, taking a sip of coffee in hopes that it will calm you down a little. What if he doesn’t say anything? What if you asked for too much information? Oh God, what if you’ve offended him somehow?

He finishes his bite of cereal and nods slowly. “Yeah, I guess it must be pretty weird for you to be in a household of strangers. You don’t even know us. I’m sorry, we should have all introduced ourselves better.” He smiles at you reassuringly and you feel your stomach settle down a little. “Well,” he continues, “I live here with Dan and Arin, which you already know, but we all have jobs making YouTube videos for a living. My username is Markiplier and I upload two game play-throughs a day. That’s one of the reasons I’m up so early today. I need to go record some stuff so I can start editing.”

You take in this information. You had mostly spent your days in the apartment watching TV or reading books because a bunch of sites were blocked on the computer, but you saw a couple of YouTube videos when you lived with your parents. Nothing like what he is describing though. 

“So,” you start out. “You’re like a professional gamer?” You startle him into laughing.

“That’s a good way to put it,” he answers. You sit in a comfortable silence as you sip your coffee. “What are you planning on doing for the rest of today?” he asks after awhile. 

You shrug, surprised. The daunting task of deciding what to do lies in front of you. “Well, I’m not sure,” you mutter. “I’m not really sure what there is to do around here.”

“Well, what do you like to do?” Mark asks. 

You shrug again, trying to deflect the question. “Not sure,” you say. 

“Come on. There must be something. What do you usually do on normal days?” Mark presses.

Your mind goes blank. What do you usually do? “Um…” you stall, “I guess I normally watch TV and, um, fill out some job applications. Make dinner, run errands. Read.” Mark is nodding thoughtfully, but before he can say anything you speak the words that come into your mind. “But, I’ve never really played any video games and I thought…that maybe…um…” You trail off, surprised at your boldness, and feel the blush covering your cheeks. ‘He’s going to say no’ and ‘What a stupid question, he has things to do, he can’t hold your hand all day’, float through your mind as you wish you could sink through the floor. 

“You know what?” Mark asks. “Thats actually a good idea! Everyone here has played games before so even if it’s not me showing you the ropes, Bob, Wade or another one of the group could help you out while I work.” He nods and looks over at you, obviously excited. “You’ve never played any video games, ever?” You shake your head. “I think I know just what to start out with!” he says. 

You get to know each of your new friends better as the day passes. It strikes you as a little weird that in just a couple of days they are closer friends than you have ever had before. Every time Molly smiles at you, or one of the guys gives you a hint for the game you are playing, you feel a warmth inside. Maybe Mark was right. Maybe you are stronger than you think. Being around these people lets you almost believe that. 

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for another short chapter but the longer ones are coming up. Right now there is a lot of drabble but that will soon change as action is coming soon. If you like it please consider leaving kudos or a comment. I appreciate all feedback.


	6. A Leap Back In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't want to impose on your lovely caretakers any longer, but where will you go? The only place left to you could mean facing Tony's anger.

A couple of days. What is a couple of days? The time you spend at Mark’s house seems to race by as if yearning to reach the finish line. All at once, you find yourself looking at your faded bruises in the mirror and feeling pressure to leave. They said you could stay for a couple of days to get your feet under you. Well, it’s two days and three nights later, and here you are. You haven’t told any of the others that you are leaving. You are hoping to disguise your departure with that of Wade, Molly, Bob and Mandy who are all leaving in a couple of hours. 

But where to go? The question weighs on your mind. You owe these kind people too much already to be a burden any longer. But still, you don’t have any money. You have no way to get anywhere. Your mother’s words come back to you. You have probably been worrying Tony to death. Sure you made him angry. But he is your landline in this city. He is so familiar. To be honest with yourself, you miss him. He might be angry with you, but that means he cares about you, doesn’t it? To make him so angry when he gets worried, he must love you very much. 

Your stomach tightens at the thought of facing Tony. You really want to go back but don’t think you’re brave enough. Mark’s words from yesterday come back to you and give you strength. Maybe you can do anything you want to do. 

Throwing aside any last misgivings that you have, you decide on a plan. You will go back to Tony. You promise yourself that if he hits you again, you will leave, no hesitation. It is only fair to give him a second chance. Bonus, this may be a way to get back on your mom’s good side. As much as she is frustrating, you do love and miss her. 

You turn away from the bathroom mirror and grab the bag sitting next to you on the floor. You have the clothes that your friends bought for you, along with the disposable phone that Molly gave you yesterday after learning yours had broken. You sneak downstairs. It is about 10 in the morning. The rest of the household is away, eating brunch. They had eagerly invited you to join them but you had politely declined. You hate saying goodbye. You leave a note on the kitchen counter, nothing too serious or lengthy, just a simple explanation that you don’t want to be a burden and have decided to leave. You promise to pay them back for all the kind things they have done for you. 

For a moment you stare at the note and suddenly hope that your new friends come through the door right there and then to stop you from leaving. Then you shake that thought aside. You belong with Tony, not these people you met a couple of days ago. Sure they are nice, but… An image of Mark’s concerned face floats in front of your eyes and you can’t finish the sentence. 

Before you can delay yourself a second longer, you walk through the front door and punch Tony’s number into the phone. He answers on the first ring.

“Hello?” His voice is so familiar you sigh with relief. 

“Tony, its me.”

“Babe! I knew you would call! I am so sorry for everything that has happened! I didn’t mean any of it. You know how I get when I get angry. Please, come home. I am so lonely without you. I need you just so I can function normally! I can make this right, I know it!” 

You shoulders relax as you realize he isn’t going to yell at you. ‘See? It’s meant to be’ the voice in your head says.

You tell him to pick you up at a spot a couple blocks away. In the moment, you are not really sure why you don’t tell him to pick you up at Mark’s place but the day is nice and you decide that it is because you need some fresh air. As you walk through the neighborhood to the collection of stores where Tony will pick you up, you breath in the fresh morning air and stop to take a pebble out of your shoe. These shoes were old ones that Mandy had found in the bottom of her suitcase and insisted you take. They fit well enough but you yearn for your simple flats back in the apartment with Tony. Before you even get to the parking lot, you can see Tony’s car parked in front of the liquor store. He must have left as soon as he hung up and sped the whole way here to beat you. 

He stands outside his truck and his face lights up when he sees you. He runs in your direction until you are engulfed in a tight and emotional embrace. “Baby I missed you so much! Don’t ever do that to me again! Are you alright? I’m so sorry about the fight baby, I’m so sorry about that. Can you forgive me? Give me a second chance. I’m getting better, I swear!” 

You nod your head and his desperate face folds into a smile that warms you up. “Lets go home,” you say, hoping against hope that this is the right thing to do. 

______

Home is so familiar it hurts. The smell, the subtle mess of papers lying on Tony’s desk and even the creak of the floorboards. “Here,” Tony says, interrupting your train of thought as you look around the small apartment. You turn around to see him holding out your phone, screen unbroken, with a new case on it. “I’m really sorry about breaking your old phone so I got this one for you. It’s the same kind of phone and I moved all your old stuff onto it.” You take the phone, surprised at the gesture. 

You press the home button and see the background is a photo taken of you and Tony on your one-year anniversary. In the picture you look happy, even though your hair is a mess. “Thanks,” you say, giving Tony a smile. 

“Oh!” Tony exclaimes, remembering. “I also tried to get you another license but they said they couldn’t do that without you personally there. Whatever.” He brushes the whole thing away with a wave of his hand. “We can get you there on the weekend when they are open. Until then you can make do, right?” You nod. You open your mouth to ask how you are going to buy groceries without a car when Tony starts pulling you towards the back of the apartment. “One more thing,” he says with a smile. He leads you to your room and you stop, stunned. Everything is spotless, bed made with an unfamiliar comforter and books arranged neatly on the shelf. You remember the night you left, how he had come in here in a rage to ruin your sanctuary. He had fixed it. You look up at Tony and can’t help a grin from breaking out on your face. He looks really proud of himself. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. It is good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for all the support. Please leave comments or kudos if you like it. Any feedback is appreciated. As usual thanks to my sister for editing this.


	7. And Then There Were Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You life back with Tony is returning to its former state when you decide to go to a nearby coffee shop on a whim. Lo and behold, somebody else had the same idea.

About a week later, you have gotten used to the familiar day to day monotony of living with Tony again after the short break. Wake up at seven after Tony has already left for work, eat a little breakfast, watch your morning show on the TV, check your email for updates on the job applications you have sent in, delete the polite application rejections when they get back to you, check the pantry, make a shopping list, start dinner, wait for Tony to get home. The same thing, day after day. You mostly like the schedule, precise and never varying, but every so once in awhile you decide to change your plan. 

One sunny morning you find you have no interest the usual bowl of cereal. Upon looking in the pantry you find yourself all out of coffee as well. Getting on the computer takes hardly any time and within a few minutes you are able to find a small locally owned coffee shop just a couple blocks away. The day is warm when you step outside and you figure it is just as well that you don’t have your new license yet, deciding to walk. 

The shop is small, but full of nooks and crannies where tables and chairs reside secretly, waiting for a morning person to find their hiding place and claim it as their own. You order your coffee and start searching for a suitable table. There are just a couple of people in the quiet shop this time in the morning, quietly reading the paper or typing on laptops. Coffee in hand, you are turning away from yet another table option when you nearly run into someone. “Whoa!” You say as you both nearly spill your coffee. “Sorry, my bad.” You look up to see…”Mark!”

“(Y/N)! Didn’t see you there! Hi!” He is wearing his usual flannel, his hair its usual floppy mess. 

You stare at him and he stares back, delightedly surprised at this chance meeting. “What are you doing here?” You blurt out, then blush as you realize how strange that sounds. “I mean, what are you—obviously you’re getting coffee…I didn’t mean…” 

Mark cuts you off before you can stammer yourself into the ground. “I needed a change of scenery. I really like this coffee shop but don’t normally come here. Why are you here?” he asks, “Other than getting coffee, of course,” he smoothly adds, a slightly teasing smile on his face.

You feel your face smile back at him. You are reminded again of how easy it is to simply be around him. “I needed to get out of the apartment. Plus, ran out of coffee so here is my replacement,” you dorkishly raise the cup in your hand, almost spilling again. 

“Well, I was going to just sit somewhere in here for a little while. Would you like to catch up a little and hang out?” His face is hopeful, as if he really wants to spend time with you. You pause a second before answering and wonder what Tony would say about this invitation. “Unless you have somewhere to be,” Mark quickly says, seeing your hesitation. You don’t have anywhere to be really and you stubbornly push against what Tony would want you to do. You can make your own decisions, after all.

“No, nowhere to be,” you respond with a smile. “Where would you like to sit?” He gestures to the table you had just turned away from.

“I usually sit there, I guess. Not really sure why, but there is a nice view of the street through the window.” You both move to sit at the small wooden table. Mark makes you feel like you belong in this place and for once the anxiety that comes with deciding what to say next in the conversation doesn’t come. Mark starts talking about what he did during the week after you left and you give a few comments about your own week. 

“We were really bummed you didn’t say goodbye before leaving,” Mark says, but his tone isn’t blaming like you are expecting it to be. “Molly in particular wanted to make sure you were alright, but we didn’t have any way to get into contact with you.”

“Right,” you say, feeling guilty. “I just really hate goodbye’s so I was trying to avoid it. Sorry about that.” You wait for a mocking comment but none comes. Instead you find Mark nodding. 

“I can see why you left the note then. I’m just glad that I can see that you’re okay now. Where did you go when you left?”

“Back to Tony,” you answer. Mark’s hand not occupied with holding his coffee cup curls into a fist.

“That guy from the parking lot? But he kicked you. And I’m betting even though you didn’t tell us, that he’s the one who gave you those bruises.” His voice is concerned and confused, but not angry. 

You take a sip of your coffee while thinking through your response. You find it easier to look through the window than at Mark. “He gets angry sometimes. Usually, its my fault that he gets angry but he is working on getting better.” You watch the sapling outside lean in the breeze. “And I guess I love him, which is hard to understand. But I have to give him another chance.” You finally look over to your friend. “Does that make any sense?” 

He doesn’t look convinced but changes the subject anyway. “Still looking for a job?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, thinking about the applications you sent out yesterday. You are running out of jobs to apply to. “I keep getting rejections and I don’t know why. I swear it was easier to get a job while I was still living with my parents.”

The conversation continues into the easier territory where you find yourself laughing at Mark’s jokes, and really opening up. It feels good to actually talk to someone about anything that comes to mind. Before you know it, hours have passed and Mark is standing up. “This has been a lot of fun, (Y/N). We should do this again, sometime soon. If you want to, of course.” 

You agree and he is walking away, empty coffee cup in his hand when you remember something. “Wait, Mark!” He turns around, and you grab a napkin and a pen, scribbling your phone number down as neatly as possible as you hurry. “Here!” you exclaim, running to hand it to him. “Text me so I know what your number is. We can set up a time to meet whenever.”

“Thanks!” he says, leaning forward to give you a quick hug before turning and throwing a “bye!” over his shoulder. You smile at his retreating form. You have never had a coffee friend before, and it seems like this may be what your relationship with Mark is turning into. He is no longer just the guy who took you in, he’s the guy you can sit and chat with, in a coffee shop no less. 

You hope with all your heart that you see him again soon. 

You also hope with your entire being that Tony doesn’t find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you guys for the feedback. Please think about leaving kudos or a comment that lets me know how you are liking it so far or any suggestions. All feedback is appreciated! Also, lets just assume that I am thanking my sister for all the editing. She is awesome. 
> 
> Exciting stuff is coming up so stay tuned


	8. The Bright Spots in Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You continue to meet Mark at the coffee shop, which quickly becomes your favorite place. You begin to realize that he is your lifeline and when he asks you to make a promise, you can't help but say okay.

A few days later you find yourself in the same coffee shop, which has become your new haven, sitting across from Mark and simply talking. The tree outside the window waves its leaves at the puffy white clouds. The conversation turns to a familiar one: the job search. “I’m running out of options,” you sigh, staring at the dregs of your coffee. “It seems like wherever I turn, I end up getting rejected. Tony doesn’t help me with any of the job search because he’s so busy. I just feel like I need to pull my own weight because he is paying for everything right now. Plus I still need to pay you guys back.” You smile at Mark. 

He’s already smiling back. “Where have you been applying?” he asks, and you delve into the long list of options, from full time positions to part-time food service. 

“Everything,” you say at the end of the list, “It’s like somebody doesn’t want me to get a job or something. By now I would take anything, it doesn’t even have to relate to my major. I just want to earn some money all by myself.” 

Mark nods, understanding. “I have an idea,” he says after a moment and gets up from his chair. You stare after him as he goes over to the barista and returns with a sheet of paper. “This place is hiring! You might as well see if they’ll take you. I know it’s not optimal, but it’d be something.” He hands you the application and you look it over. Standard and simple, easy questions. You fish a pen out of your purse. 

“Great idea,” you say, glancing gratefully at him as he sits back down, looking pleased with himself. “Do you mind if I fill this out now?”

“Go ahead,” he agrees, watching as you start filling in the blanks. 

_____

The next time you meet it is overcast, the sun peeking through the gloom briefly before disappearing again. You pick at your scone as Mark describes his recent adventures meeting fans, wondering whether to tell him what is on your mind. He finishes his story and you nod, making a noncommittal noise. “What up,” he asks after a moment. “You look like you are in a different world.” 

“Sorry,” you say, shaking yourself back into the present. “It’s just,” you pause, then launch into what you wanted to say. “Thank you, I guess. For coming here, for having coffee with me and just talking.”

“It’s no problem,” he says as you start to say something else, and he gestures for you to continue.

“It’s just that, well, I never seem to know what I want to do or where I want to be. When I’m with Tony, I have this feeling like I want to get away, but whenever I leave I always want to go back and it’s always been that way. But it’s not that way with you at all. Thank you for being such a great friend, for caring about me and for being my support.” You take a deep breath before going on. “If I went back to that bridge right now, I don’t think I could jump. And that’s thanks to you.” All of a sudden your eyes get teary and you turn your head. You turn back when you hear a sniffle from Mark’s direction. 

“What?” he asks, trying to be nonchalant while blowing his nose into a napkin. “That’s like the nicest, sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

“Are you crying?” you ask incredulously, the tears in your own eyes forgotten. 

“Well, I’m in good company then,” he teases through a wad of napkins as he dabs his eyes. You follow suit as you start laughing. 

“God, we’re such a mess,” I say and that sends both of us into laughter. The intense stomach cramping, shoulder tossing, kind of laughter that causes tears all of its own. And you are in such good company that you don’t even care if everyone in the shop is looking at the two of you crying into a pile of discarded napkins and scone crumbs. 

____

The clouds are sending down a fine mist on your next coffee meeting with Mark, giving you the excuse you need to wear long sleeves. For some reason, you feel embarrassed at the thought of him seeing the bruises. You pull your hood up over your frizzy hair and tromp through the puddles to the coffee shop. The shop has just the right level of warm to contrast with the sodden weather, making you want to curl up in here and read for hours. Looking over to your usual table, you see Mark has beat you, and is intently reading a paperback. You get your coffee and walk up behind him. “I thought you were more of a Tumblr guy,” you say loudly and he jumps, surprised. You set down your coffee and give a small chuckle at your success. 

“Hey, this book was highly reviewed by a credible source,” he shoots back, pretending to be offended. He turns the book so you can see the cover and you are surprised to see it is a book you recommended to him just the other day. 

“What part are you at?” you ask and the conversation weaves into questions and debates about the book. Now that you are used to it, the shop is feeling almost uncomfortably warm, and you roll up your sleeves while describing your fascination with one of the characters. It takes you a few moments to realize Mark isn’t listening. You stop in the middle of your explanation. “What?” you ask. 

“What are those?” he asks bluntly, pointing at the purple finer-shaped bruises on your arm. Embarrassed, you roll down your sleeves quickly. 

“Nothing,” you respond automatically. 

“Bullshit,” he says, sounding angry for once. “He did this, didn’t he?” 

“It isn’t like that,” you protest. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me! He just doesn’t know his own strength sometimes. It isn’t like he hit me, he just grabbed my arm and didn’t know he was grabbing on too tight.” 

“So tight he left bruises?” Mark asked skeptically. “Somehow, that explanation doesn’t seem right.”

His words hit you like a burst of cold air. “You think I’m lying,” you say, desperately trying to keep the pain out of your voice and failing. 

Mark sighs, “No, it’s not that I think you’re lying. I think he is abusive and you keep making excuses for him!”

“Excuses?” you ask, not believing what you are hearing. Sure, Tony can get angry, but that’s excusable because everybody gets angry. You try desperately to see what Mark is trying to say. 

“You stay with him even though he hurts you!” 

“He doesn’t try to. He can’t control himself. It’s my fault that he gets so angry—“

“No!” Mark cuts you off. He looks into your eyes and you can see how passionate he is about what he is saying. “He is the one that is angry. He is the one doing the hurting, not you. It’s not your fault. It’s his. It’s his fault, (Y/N). That’s why I think you should leave him. He’s no good, and I can’t stand to see him hurt you anymore.” The honesty in his statement shocks you and you can’t think of anything to say back. Mark looks away, obviously a little embarrassed that he blurted all that out. 

Words finally come back to you. “I don’t know how to leave Tony. I love him.” You look helplessly at Mark, hoping he can understand.

Mark nods finally, but then leans forward and grabs your hand, almost spilling his coffee with the sudden movement. His hands are dry and warm and you don’t take your hand away. “Just promise me this,” he says, “promise me that you’ll leave if he hurts you again. The next time he leaves a mark on you, promise you’ll call me and I’ll come get you, or call and come to my house in a cab, whatever works. Just promise, please.”

More than ever you realize that Mark sincerely cares about your wellbeing. You remember the promise you made to yourself when you went back to Tony, that if he ever hit you again, you would leave him. But the bruises on your arm don’t count; after all, he didn’t hit you. Now Mark is asking you to add to your promise.

You feel yourself nod. “Okay, I promise.” Half of you hopes that you never have to fulfill that promise, and Tony will never get angry like that again. The other half hopes that he does. 

Why are things always so complicated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, I'm glad to see you are enjoying it so far. As of yet, my schedule is to upload a chapter every day so if you want to stay up to date with the story, check back in every day. That being said, I can't promise a particular time. 
> 
> Anyway, please consider leaving kudos or a comment telling me thoughts and suggestions. All feedback is appreciated! Big stuff coming up so get ready!


	9. When The Rain Comes Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes you out for dinner but as the evening goes on, his mood grows worse and worse. A fight is inevitable but even you can't foresee what is about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, this is a big one. As always, thanks to my sister for editing. I will be posting the next chapter as usual tomorrow. Please consider adding kudos or leaving a comment with reactions, suggestions or questions. All feedback is appreciated!

About a week after your promise to Mark, Tony comes home in an exceptionally good mood. You are in the middle of setting the table, the chicken already cooked and the salad already in bowls when he bursts through the door with the words, “(Y/N)! We are going out for dinner tonight! I need a night out on the town to celebrate my promotion!” 

You gawk at him a little. “Y—your promotion? You got promoted? Oh, well, congratulations. But I already made dinner,” you say, gesturing to the table and the platters with food. 

“But Babe, I’ve been working so hard for this promotion!” he pouts and you feel bad. Then he comes closer to gently rub your arms. “Don’t you think I should get to choose what I eat tonight?” 

“Right, sorry. But I made your favorite chicken—“

He cuts you off. “I don’t care! We’re going out. Go change into something nice.” His enthusiasm is contagious and dispels the twinge of annoyance you feel at your dinner being dismissed so easily. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, stuffing the chicken into a tupperware container and into the fridge. 

“It’s a surprise!” Tony says, going into his room. “Just look nice! But don’t wear that ugly skirt,” you hear him say. You go look through your closet, turning down dress after dress. Tony has bought you many things over the years before deciding you shouldn’t wear them. He doesn’t like the close-fitting ones or the ones with too much cleavage because they make other men stare at you. He doesn’t like the ones that are formless because then he says he doesn’t get to appreciate you. You finally decide on a simple sundress, a warm purple color. Knowing Tony will say something about the thin straps you also slip on a black shrug before stuffing your phone and wallet into a small clutch. You phone beeps at you when you check the time and you notice the battery is running really low. Well, no time to charge it now. You can’t find the match for your small black heel in your closet so you slip on your comfortable black flats. You check your image in the mirror. No bruises. You smile at your reflection tentatively. 

“(Y/N)!” Tony calls from outside your door. “Let’s go!” 

“Coming!” you call. Another second of staring into the mirror and you remember something. You don’t usually wear earrings but since he is taking you out to a nice place, you pull out the small diamond studs he gave you the first time you got back together and stick them through your ears. Another call of your name from outside comes and you go with Tony to the car. 

He has changed into a nice button-down shirt, a light color that seems to bring out his eyes. Like a gentleman, Tony opens the car door for you and you feel yourself blush as you get in. He drives toward downtown, rain tapping on the windshield, and stops outside an expensive steakhouse, one of the big ones with waiters in suits and live string music. With a smile he pays for valet and grabs your hand, pulling you through the door. He already made a reservation so you are immediately seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant. 

The dinner is expensive and Tony orders a bottle of red wine. You don’t have the heart to tell him yet again that you don’t like wine, and choke back a few sips while he orders for you. “I was thinking,” Tony says, when the starter salads arrive. “I’ll be making enough this year with the promotion that we could buy a house somewhere in the city. Or, maybe I could buy you a new car. Your old one is ugly.” 

“Yeah, it was my mom’s car,” you say. 

“Or I could start my own business. You know I’ve always wanted to have my own branch of the company. I could prove to my dad that I can do it,” he says, hardly indicating that he heard you. Tony chuckles, “You could be my secretary!” He laughs as if he has made a really good joke. “Aw, man. Can you imagine you working as a secretary?” You chew your food, wondering at that comment. You had actually applied to several secretary positions that all got filled before they saw your application. Was the thought of you being a secretary really that outrageous? 

The main dish is eventually brought out as Tony goes on to explain the details of his new company to you. You try your best to pay attention, unobtrusively waving the waiter away when he starts heading your way to fill Tony’s wineglass up a third time. The plates get cleared, the check payed for, and Tony leads you back outside the restaurant, leaving you to stay dry under the little overhang over the door while giving the valet the ticket. You check the time again on your phone and are surprised to see it is a little after 10 PM. Your phone beeps it’s low battery warning again and you put it away as Tony comes to stand next to you. The sky is dark and the rain is coming down steadily, leaving puddles all over the sidewalk. 

The valet drives up, and you are glad you wore the shrug as you race to the car while the rain hammers down on you. You giggle slightly, wiping the rain off your eyelashes as you sit in the passenger seat. “What’s so funny?” Tony asks, frowning and trying to fix his damp hair in the rearview mirror.

“The rain soaked me in just a few seconds,” you explain. You never really mind getting wet in the rain, and find the sound of water hitting pavement oddly comforting. 

“Yeah, hilarious.” Tony grumbles sarcastically. “I really wanted to get wet tonight.” Suddenly he is in a bad mood and you sigh. You had a good time and hope that his mood gets better. 

“Let’s just go home,” you reason. 

“That’s what I was going to do,” Tony says with an annoyed voice, casting you a look. You decide to stay silent as Tony pulls away from the curb. The usual route back to your apartment is blocked off with construction, and Tony curses, sullenly following the long detour. He reaches into his pocket at a red light to get his pack of cigarettes but finds an empty box instead, cursing again. He looks around and spots a drug store in a small shopping area. “We’re making a quick stop,” Tony tells you, driving forward and taking the turn into the big parking lot when the light turns green. You recognize the area as the shopping center near Mark’s house. That trip and the parking lot incident already feel like ages ago. All the retail stores are shut down already, and the drug store is the only one with lights on in the whole place. 

Tony parks across four parking spaces before jumping out and hurrying through the rain, leaving you in the dark car. Your phone rings, making you jump. 

“Hello?” you answer the phone, not recognizing the number. 

“Hey, (Y/N), I wasn’t sure I was going to reach you. I’m the manager for The Earlybird Cafe. You recently sent in an application and interviewed for a position.”

The name of your favorite coffee shop sounds like music to your ears, as do the words the manager is saying. “My name is Chris and I am pleased to tell you that we would love to hire you! I think a part-time schedule would be good to get started and learn the ropes. Does that sounds good?”

“Yeah,” you say, finding your words. “That sounds great!” Excitement threatens to burst your chest wide open. You did it! You got a job! 

“Great,” Chris answers. “Do you know when you want to start? Or do you need to call me back?” 

You phone beeps in your ear as your battery starts dying. “Could I possibly call you back? My phone is about to die and I want to make sure I give you the right date.” 

“Sure thing. I’ll hear from you soon then. Ok, bye.”

“Goodbye,” you say and the conversation clicks off. A smile is permanently etched on your face and pride bubbles up in your throat. You lean back into the seat, closing your eyes and enjoying your victory. Now you can pay Mark back, maybe contribute to rent each month, and have the money to buy your own snacks that Tony doesn’t provide. A world of opportunities slowly unfolds behind your eyelids. 

You startle as Tony opens his door, slamming down into his seat, a new pack of cigarettes clasped in his hand. “What’re you so happy about now?” He asks, roughly starting the car and punching it into drive. The car jerks forward as he turns a slow circle through the empty parking lot, avoiding the growing puddles. 

“I got a job!” you exclaim, hoping he will at least wish you congratulations. Instead the car slams to a full stop. 

“You WHAT?” Tony shrieks, the anger in his voice blowing away the good feeling the phone call brought with it. 

“Tony, what—,” you say, fumbling your clutch at the sudden stop. 

“I DON’T REMEMBER TELLING YOU TO GET A JOB!” Tony screams. “YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO GET A JOB!” A new feeling rises up inside of you. It’s unfamiliar for a second and then you recognize anger. You are actually angry at Tony.

“Of course I got a job, Tony!” you yell back, “I’ve been looking for a job for ages! I don’t want you to pay for everything! I want to make my own money!” You try to grasp at the excitement and pride you felt but it is gone. Tony has ruined it. 

“I thought you would give up after you kept getting rejected from all your other applications, but no, you can’t even take a hint!” Tony snarls.

“How would you know I’ve been getting rejected?” you asks heatedly. “It’s not like you ever helped me look for a job!” 

Tony coldly stares back at you, fury etched into his skin. “Are you really as stupid as you look? Do you know how much work it’s been everyday to go through the computer history and email all the places you applied to? All just to save you from yourself? You are so much happier at home without a job.” He is no longer shouting but his words punch you harder than ever. 

“You’ve been ruining all my applications?” you cry in disbelief. “Why? I worked hard on those, Tony! Plus, you can’t keep me at home forever! I want a job! And as for working so hard ruining my plans, why didn’t it ever occur to you to just ask me to stop applying to places instead of stalking where I went on the computer?!” 

“ENOUGH!” Tony roars, slamming his foot on the accelerator. The car’s wheels spin on the soaked ground, letting loose a squeal before the car shoots forward. Tony swerves across the parking lot, barely missing an island of concrete, rocketing in his anger around the shops, missing the exit onto the street and ending up in the dark area behind the stores where the dumpsters are. 

“Tony, stop!” you scream, really scared as the car fishtails on the slick pavement. You don’t want to die like this. Tony lets out a wordless snarl and rips the steering wheel around. You grab his shoulder with one hand, reaching for the steering wheel with the other. “Tony!” He rips your hand from his shoulder, crushing your fingers in his grip before tossing your hand away. Tears come to your eyes with the pain as you clasp your hand to your chest. An iron resolve that you never knew existed hardens inside of you and you grab your clutch, scrabbling to unlatch the door while the car makes a wild turn around. Tony slams on the breaks to avoid a dumpster and you stumble out of the car, slamming the door behind you and hugging your clutch as you jog away through the pouring rain. You are not about to get back in the car with him in this mood. And he hurt you again. It seems every time you think he is better he gets like this. And all this time he was the one making it hard for you to get a job. Hot fury lances through you. He doesn’t get a second chance this time. You had almost trusted him again and this is how he repays you.

“(Y/N), WHAT THE HELL?” You hear Tony scream. You can hear the car turning around to follow you across the parking lot. You head for the road, your flats getting flooded with water as you step in a hidden puddle. Tony sticks his head out the window of the car, driving slowly towards you. “(Y/N)! Get back in the damn car! Now!”

“NO!” You yell back, defiantly turning to face him. “I am never going anywhere with you ever again! We are finished! Over! Done! This time I really mean it!”

“You don’t know what you’re saying! I know what’s best for you! Now get in the car or I will come make you!” Tony yells back. 

“Don’t you get it?” you scream into the rain. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore!” In a gesture of defiance, you grab the diamonds from your ears and chuck them into the watery darkness. Amazed at your own daring, you turn again and start running. In the moment you don’t think about where you are going, or how you will get there. All you care about is getting away from Tony. 

You hear the car behind you as it picks up speed, bounding through puddles as Tony chases after you. You stop again, turning to tell him to leave you alone. The car is barreling towards you at full speed, water flying out from under the tires. You can barely see Tony’s face through the windshield but you can tell by his set jaw that he’s not trying to talk to you anymore. A terror mixes with your anger and you are turning to run or get out of the way when the car hits you at full speed. You see Tony’s face up close in a triumphant snarl before your face smacks into the glass and your body is flung like a rag doll through the air. You land on your shoulder, rolling to a stop, and you faintly hear the squealing of tires speeding into the distance as pain races through you like fire. 

Darkness swallows you. 

 

 

______________________

 

 

You wake from the pain and the water. The sky is emptying buckets onto the earth, trapping you in a watery confusion as you lay on the hard asphalt. You take inventory of your body. Everything hurts. Specifically your head, and your right thigh feels like one huge blistering bruise. It hurts to breathe and you can’t move your left arm. Your head swims as you look around through the splashing water and see your clutch not far away. Somehow, your shoes are missing, and you figure they flew off when Tony hit you. 

Tony. With a painful gasp that seems to rip your chest open you push yourself into a sitting position. Nobody is around. The parking lot behind the shops is empty, the dumpsters sitting like guarding shadows against the concrete walls. Tony left you here. On top of everything else, he left you here. 

Somehow you crawl over to your clutch and grab your phone. You can barely hold onto it with your sopping hands but somehow stop it from falling into the puddle nearby and click the ON button. The screen glows briefly, and you tap on the phone icon, intending to call 911, but your phone beeps at you and promptly dies. You stare disbelievingly at the dark screen, hopelessly pushing the power button over and over. You stuff the phone back into the clutch, and shakily make it to standing. It is hard to stand on your right leg and you still can’t move your left arm. With each jostle to your left arm, your shoulder shakes with white hot pain. You spot one of your flats and hobble over to it, slipping it on, but can’t find your other one in the darkness. Mentally you take stock of your surroundings. No cars are passing on the street outside. What are you going to do? Your head pounds and you reach up to brush back your sopping hair, but your forehead ignites at the contact. You can barely see your hand but a disturbing substance coats your fingers. Your head is bleeding. 

Through the haze of pain, water, and aching ribs you remember where you are. Mark’s house is not that far away. Just a couple of blocks really. He said to call first but your phone is dead. With limping steps, you push back the pain and start walking. Somehow you manage to put one foot in front of the other. Your single shoe doesn’t do much agains the water pouring from the sky and spilling across the cement. You struggle forwards, a newfound determination in your heart. Tony might have left you but you are willing to bet your life that Mark will take care of everything. 

You just have to get there.


	10. Pain, Water, but Also Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Tony abandons you bleeding in a parking lot, you need to get to help. The only person you can think of is Mark, but will it be in time?

Step. Shuffle step. Shuffle step. This is the anthem of your life, remixed with the sound of falling water. You head pounds and each step is a small victory. Time seems to pass differently as you fight your way down the sidewalk in the pouring rain. The pain is now your companion, a wild animal constantly circling you, nibbling on your left shoulder or your right leg, stopping your breath and sinking sticky claws into your forehead. Any warmth you had in your body is now gone, replaced with a deep numbing chill. Your dress is dark with water, clinging heavily to your skin, and your hair is a sopping mess. The rain is falling so hard you feel like you’re walking through a shower. A single car rushes past on the street but you are too weak to signal for help. 

You can see the next street sign through the sheets of rain now. Only four more blocks and then a left. You have lost all connection with what happens when you eventually get to your destination. Despite your left foot bearing a shoe, all ten of your toes feel waterlogged and frozen. For a moment you mourn the lost right shoe, still sitting back in some puddle, abandoned. You right arm hugs your left arm to your body, and even then each step causes your left shoulder to whimper in pain. Your clutch is stuffed under your right arm, pressed tightly against your body. 

It is hard to walk quickly because each breath is restricted to the shallowest of gasps. You pant, desperately trying to get enough air as you limp on, struggling through the night. Two more blocks to go, then turn left. The houses along this street are all set back from the road, and given the torrents of water washing everything away you can only see their front lights glinting through the rain. Trees sway overhead as a breeze kicks up, driving the heavy drops from side to side. The water splashes into the street in mesmerizing patterns, washing sticks and leaves into the gutters, and forming small rivers of water on the road. 

You turn left on the correct street and walk up the sidewalk. You have forgotten that the street has a hill. Why is the hill so steep? You are almost there. Shuffle step. Shuffle step. Shuffle step. You collect yourself as you stare up at the familiar house and finally feel something other than pain. Hope. Mark can help. With a new burst of energy you stumble up the driveway, gritting your teeth as you awkwardly climb his front steps. The effort exhausts you and you sag against the doorframe. The front light isn’t on and you hope he is home. With the last of your strength you press the doorbell and sink to the ground. ‘What time is it?’ you blearily wonder, pressing your face against the doorframe, and hope you aren’t waking him up. You didn’t warn him you were coming after all. 

You almost figure that you will have to summon the energy to reach up and press the doorbell again when the door opens. For a moment he sees no one and looks confused, but then glances down and sees you. 

“(Y/N)! Holy shit! Are you okay?” He sounds concerned.

“I know you said to call, but my phone died,” you pant, struggling to stay conscious. Now that you have reached your goal, your body demands rest.

“What happened?” Mark asks. “Wow, it’s dark.” He flips on the front light and catches sight of your forehead. “Oh God, that’s bad. That looks really bad. Okay, um, come in and we can figure this out.” He reaches down and you cry out in pain as he touches your left arm. “Oh God, sorry sorry sorry!” he says, his hands fluttering around your shoulder, unsure what to do. 

“I don’t think I can stand,” you tell him blearily. He nods, looking slightly panicked and without another word, scoops you into his arms. His warm scent overrides the rain, but soon even that familiarity is driven away by the pain as he jogs inside, your injured arm and leg shooting stabbing sensations throughout your body. 

“Dan! Arin! I need you! Get down here now!” you hear Mark yell through the haze, and feel him set you on the couch. 

“Ow,” you manage to groan. 

“Shhhhh,” comforts Mark, taking your clutch and setting it down nearby before grabbing your right hand and rubbing it between his. 

Dan’s voice floats into the room; “What’s going on?”

“Call 911,” Mark answers, and you can hear his voice hitching in his throat, “We’re gonna need an ambulance.”

“Oh my god,” Dan says as he sees you on the couch, and then you can hear his footsteps as he runs into the kitchen. 

An accompanying “Shit,” comes as Arin enters the room.

“Arin, go get some towels. She’s soaked,” Mark commands. You look up into your friend’s face, trying to stay awake. Concentrating on the pain helps and you breathe in slightly deeper, feeling your ribs moaning under your skin. His familiar brown eyes are full of tears as he looks down at you. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be just fine,” he says. 

“I know,” you manage to answer. “I made it. I followed through on my promise.” Your smile is more of a grimace, but it feels good to admit your accomplishment. “We got into an argument and he grabbed my arm so I ran out of the car and wouldn’t ride home with him.” Saying the story out loud makes it more real. Tony had almost killed you. He had left you bleeding on the pavement all alone. 

“It’s okay now,” Mark says. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” You can hear Dan’s voice coming from the kitchen, explaining over the phone what is going on. Arin runs back into the room, a bunch of towels in his arms. He hands one to Mark who gently lifts it to your forehead. You grit your teeth as the pain multiplies. You must have let out a groan because Mark lets out a string of “Sorry”s and explains that he is trying to wipe some of the blood away. The nice towel comes away from your face with red on it. Arin puts another towel under your head as a pillow. 

You look back at Mark to see that he has tears running down his cheeks. You feel bad. This is your fault. You came here and now he’s sad. Feeling like it is your responsibility to cheer him up you decide to remark on something that has been bothering you. “Mark. Stop crying. It’s okay. I mean, this time I made it out with a shoe.” You wiggle the toes on your bare right foot and he can’t help but giggle a little as he remembers the night weeks ago when he found you with shoeless. 

“They’re sending an ambulance,” Dan calls from the next room. 

“Help is on its way,” Mark reassures you. He blots at your face with the towel with one hand, but keeps a strong hold of your right hand with his other. 

“Oh.” You remember what you wanted to tell him. “I got the job at our coffee shop. Tony wasn’t excited though.” 

“I knew you could get that job,” Mark whispers, squeezing your hand. “Good job.” 

Time seems to distort again and the pain increases. You figure with the part of your mind not occupied with the current crises, that the endorphins released when you got hit must be wearing off right about now. You reflect that this is probably one of the only things you still remember from biology 101. 

“You still with me, (Y/N)?” you hear Mark ask. You manage a tight nod, but regret it when spots quickly bloom in front of your eyes.

You hear sirens outside and through the growing darkness see a pattern of flashing lights on the ceiling. “They’re here,” Arin reports, going to open the door. You faintly see two shapes come in through the door, and feel Mark give your hand a squeeze before you pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, thanks to my sister for editing this. Please consider leaving kudos or a comment with reactions, suggestions or questions. All feedback is appreciated!


	11. When The Cops Come In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the accident you wake in the hospital and learn your have a long recovery in front of you. Upon learning what happened, the cops may become involved. Is this what you want?

You are barely alert through a confusing string of sleepy happenings. At one point you wake up in the ambulance and an unfamiliar woman is asking if you can tell her your age. Everything goes fuzzy. 

Then you are on a bed flying down a hallway and there is something wrapped around your head. Then a man is asking you to sit still while he takes an x-ray of your leg, and then your chest and arm. You hear the words “need to put a pin in it,” and the whole time you are not really focused on what is going on, even though everything strikes you as extremely important. 

Have only a few minutes passed, or hours? You can’t really tell.

You lie on a bed in a hospital gown you don’t remember putting on, and there are strangers everywhere. You are looking around for Mark when somebody holds a mask over your face, and you feel your hands start to buzz.

_____

 

When you finally drift back to consciousness you are warm and dry, but a dull ache surrounds everything. You sluggishly open your eyes, and notice blearily that you are in an unfamiliar bed in a curtained off section of a much larger room. The sounds of the hospital drift around you in waves. The crook of your left elbow itches and you look down to see an IV sticking our of your arm. You’re feeling more alert now, and start taking inventory. Your throat is parched, your head feels extremely heavy, and your right thigh feels oddly dissociated from the rest of your body. Mark is asleep in a chair not far away, head lolling forwards onto his chest. 

You wonder if you should say something to wake him, but your mind is too hazy to find words, and your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. You try to swallow to ease the dryness, but that just makes you cough. Coughing hurts. The sound, however, works just fine, and he stirs. For a moment Mark stares blearily at you as if wondering if he’s still dreaming. Then awareness sparks in his eyes. 

“You’re awake!” Mark exclaims, and sits forward in the chair. A smile breaks over his face, and he takes your hand. “Hey, how are you feeling?” 

Before you can answer the curtain at the foot of your bed is pulled open and a nurse steps in. She smiles when she sees you are awake, and repeats Mark’s question. “Good to see your eyes open! How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” you say without thinking about it too hard. 

“That would be the anesthesia wearing off. You should feel more awake soon. Can you rate your pain right now on a scale from 1-10 for me please?”

You decide on a five and tell her so. She nods and hums a second, moving to adjust something out of your line of sight. Before you can ask her for water she reappears, tells you she’s going to get the doctor, and bustles out. 

There is a minute of silence before Mark speaks again. “You gave me one heck of a scare showing up last night, looking like freaking Carrie.”

“Sorry,” you manage. Guilt wriggles inside you.

“No, don’t apologize. I’m glad you came for help. It just scared me.” Mark stands up and stretches. His shoulder pops audibly and he laughs. “Didn’t plan on sleeping in the chair,” Mark says. “But I wanted to make sure I was here when you woke up.” He sits with a smile, and you notice that he takes your hand again. His fingers are warm. 

A woman in a white coat comes through the curtain holding a clipboard. She consults the chart. “Hello, you must be (Y/N). My name is Dr. Kennedy. I am the one who fixed you up.” She pulls up a chair and sits on the opposite side of your bed from Mark. Dr. Kennedy wears her dark hair pulled back into a bun, and has a kind face. You feel like you can trust her, so you smile.

Dr. Kennedy says, “You were pretty banged up when you got here. You have a serious concussion right now, and eleven stitches along your hairline. Your left arm was dislocated, but the EMTs fixed in the ambulance on the way here, and from the x-ray we know there is no lasting damage to any muscles or ligaments there. Your shoulder should be sore for a couple of days, and I recommend keeping your arm immobilized for about a week to make sure it heals properly. You have three broken ribs on your right side, so breathing may be a little painful while those are healing. You are lucky. Broken ribs can cause serious internal injuries but none of them caused any damage. You may have some bruising but that is all.” She pauses and checks her chart again. “Your right femur has a serious fracture. We have placed a screw there to make sure nothing moves around while the healing process takes place but you shouldn’t put any weight on that leg for approximately two months. Everyone’s healing time differs, so we will have a series of follow up appointments to see how you are doing. In some cases physical therapy is necessary, but your case is mild enough that we can wait and see whether that is necessary.” She pauses long enough for you to absorb the information. “Do you have any questions?” she asks. 

Mark speaks up suddenly. “I have a question.” But instead of directing his question at the doctor, he directs it at you. “What happened last night?”

“What do you mean?” you answer faintly. For a moment you have no idea what he is talking about. 

“I mean, how did you end up with broken ribs and stitches and a fracture in your femur!” He doesn’t sound angry but you flinch anyway. Mark notices, and quickly says, “It was Tony, wasn’t it?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but you answer anyway.

“Yeah, it was Tony.” You feel like you owe Mark an explanation for turning up on his doorstep in the middle of the night and scaring him. You take a deep breath. “Okay. He took me out for dinner to this really nice place, but then it started raining and he was in a bad mood. Normally that’s okay if I don’t say anything.” You shift uncomfortably. Talking about what Tony did is surprisingly difficult, as if you are ratting out a friend. 

You force yourself to continue. “We stopped so Tony could get a pack of smokes, and that was when I got the call saying that I got the job. I told Tony and he freaked out. I thought he was going to crash the car.” The emotions from the previous night overwhelm you again; the unusual anger, the fear, the adrenaline. “Yeah, it turns out he’s been the one ruining my chances of getting a job all year. He got really angry and I got angry back at him, which doesn’t usually happen.” A smile finds its way onto your lips as you remember the fight. You are strangely proud of yourself, leaping out of the car and yelling back at him. 

“Anyway, he grabbed my arm when I tried to grab the steering wheel.” You look down at your arm and are surprised to see a faint finger-shaped bruise on your skin. Dr. Kennedy is looking more and more concerned, her brow wrinkled as she listens to your story. You realize you are explaining the story not only to Mark who asked, but also to this woman you barely know. “Mark made me promise to leave if Tony hurt me again, no matter what,” you explain for her, and feel Mark squeeze you hand. “So, I jumped out of the car and ran. I told Tony I was leaving him, for real this time. Then I was running across the parking lot and he was driving after me, trying to get me to give in and go back to him. I guess he just snapped.” The last few words stick in your throat, that mysterious lump trapping your voice again. 

You stubbornly push against it and it yields so you can finish your story. “I’ve never seen Tony so angry. I’d just realized the car wasn’t slowing down when he hit me. There was this moment when I could see his face through the windshield, where he was just inches away from me, and he looked…” you trail off, missing the words to explain Tony’s intense expression that is burned behind your eyelids. “Anyway, I must have blacked out, and when I woke up he and the car were gone. My phone was dead, so I walked to Mark’s house.”

A stunned silence follows your story and then “THAT ASSHOLE!” Mark is on his feet, pacing. You and Dr. Kennedy give him similar calming and quieting motions. “Sorry,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “But…but…he just left you.” His face is alive with shock and outrage on your behalf.

“Is Tony your boyfriend?” Dr. Kennedy asks calmly. You nod and Mark growls, no real words escaping him. You watch him curiously. No one has ever gotten this upset on your behalf for as long as you can remember. Something beeps suddenly and Dr. Kennedy pulls out a pager from her pocket, looking at the screen before standing. “I’ll be back,” she tosses over her shoulder, and disappears. 

The nurse from before comes back in with a couple of forms. By now you can think clearly and fill them out, watching Mark pace out of the corner of your eye. Any movement with your left arm throbs painfully and you remember the doctor’s warning to not move that arm. Upon returning to collect the forms, the nurse shoos Mark to the waiting area so you can get dressed. She has to help you. The clothes don’t fit quite right but the nurse explains that they are the usual clothes they keep for the outpatients who have nothing else to change into. With your arm in a sling, the nurse helps you down into a wheelchair before wheeling you out into the lobby area in which Mark sits impatiently. 

As you are being wheeled towards him you look up at the nurse as a question hits you. “Wait, how am I paying for all of this?” 

The nurse smiles, a little confused. “Well, he paid for it. Right?” You sigh, realizing that Mark just payed your hospital bills. Along with everything else you owe him, now this. 

He stands as you get closer and you smile at him tentatively. He smiles back. “Alright, (Y/N). Let’s go home and get you settled. I got Arin and Dan to set up your room. So I bet its not even ready yet but whatever.” He pauses a second. “That’s okay, right? I figured you wouldn’t have anywhere else…” he suddenly looks unsure. 

“No, that’s great,” you reassure him. Relief fills you. Now you don’t have to worry about where you’re staying. That’s Mark, still taking care of you in every way. Sure you owe him a lot, but you also need him a lot. ‘One thing at a time,’ you remind yourself. ‘Let him take care of you now, pay him back later.’

Mark has just grabbed the chair and is pushing it through the lobby when you hear a voice call your name. Mark turns the wheelchair so you can see Dr. Kennedy hurrying your way. “I’m glad I caught you,” she says. Behind her is a police officer, looking almost out of place with his dark uniform in the bright hospital. “I think it would be a good idea for you to give your statement to this policeman. Tony does not sound like a good guy, and I think they can help.” 

For a second you gawk at the two of them. You hadn’t even considered going to the police after what Tony did. As if feeling your hesitation, Mark speaks up softly from over your shoulder. “I think it’s a good idea.” You glance up at him. He looks serious and sincere. “He tried to kill you (Y/N). It’s your choice of course, but that’s what I think.” 

It takes you a moment but eventually you sigh and nod. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” you say to the police officer. His name turns out to be William Mastley, or Officer Mastley. He is polite and takes down your statement, asking questions to clarify a few things before nodding and scribbling on his pad. You give him Tony’s contact info and where he works, even describing the car you were riding in that night although you can’t remember the license plate.

When you are finished he shakes your hand. “I want you to realize that there is no guarantee I can pin any of this on him. Right now, the case is a simple he-said/she-said scenario. But I’m going to talk to Tony and see if I can piece together what happened. I’ll be in touch.” 

It is close to 6 AM when Mark wheels you out of the hospital, and only now do you fully process what you’ve done. You have officially told on Tony. ‘He’s going to be angry,’ you think, and despite the bright, clear morning you still feel a twinge of uneasiness. At least you have Mark at your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, please consider leaving kudos or a comment letting me know any questions, reactions or suggestions. All feedback is appreciated! Also, this story is on Wattpad now as well and I am updating them at the same time. Right now I am thinking that there will be about four more chapters, give or take, but that may change as I continue writing. 
> 
> Stay awesome and stay tuned!


	12. Escape Is But A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have escaped Tony and finally know that you don't want to return but what happens when Tony finds out? Are you really safe or is it all an illusion?

‘This sucks’ you think. You’ve only been at Mark’s home for 6 hours and already you are exhausted and in pain. The hospital sent you home with a small bottle of painkillers, but that bottle is in the kitchen and you are currently upstairs in your room. Getting upstairs in the first place had been quite the ordeal, involving three men, much swearing, and a couple scratches on the steps. Mark, of course, had hovered awhile, and you had just recently managed to get him to go lie down because he looked exhausted. You suppose that he is now dead asleep, which doesn’t help you much. The house is, of course, not very wheelchair accessible. You also only have on arm to push yourself around with, so you can’t even move across the room by yourself. 

Well, if you can’t go downstairs to get the pain medication, you could at least get some sleep. The room is exactly how you remember it being, the twin bed—the sheets obviously thrown on last minute—pushed up against the pastel wall. Now you just have to get there. Your first few tries only pushing on the right wheel lead to some annoying circles, which leave you facing the wrong way.You spend another few minutes painstakingly inching one wheel and then the other forward so you might be able to climb onto your bed. With your left arm immobile, you have to reach all the way over your lap to turn the left wheel. 

You finally reach the bed, your knees bumping into the soft mattress. Leaning forward, you grab at the bedspread with your right hand and somehow manage to roll halfway onto the bed. You kick your left foot and squirm the rest of the way on. Then you lay there facedown for a moment before rolling over and staring at the ceiling. A dull ache spreads through everything. The small accomplishment of lying down is pushed aside by how hard it is now to do simple tasks.

The thought of trying to get under the blanket is too exhausting, so you stay where you are and close your eyes. You want to sleep, make the pain, your injuries and everything just go away. You lay there for a long time, no goals in mind. The pain keeps you from slipping to the freedom of sleep and your mind skips through different topics at random. Mark said he was going to charge your phone, and you wonder if you have missed any calls. What if that police officer calls and you can’t get to your phone because you are upstairs and stuck here because everyone else is asleep? And your wallet was in your clutch last night, where is it now? 

The clock on the bedside table slowly ticks away the minutes and you grow a little impatient, wanting desperately to still your mind and fall asleep, but the dull ache won’t let you. You sit up carefully, and your head swims slightly. You wheelchair rolled across the room when you first heaved yourself onto the bed. You try bringing the wheelchair closer through sheer force of will. The wheelchair stubbornly stays put. You sigh. You need that pain medication. Taking a deep breath, you swing your legs over the side of your bed, careful to only rest your left foot on the floor. Slowly standing up on your left leg, you hold your right arm out to balance and start hopping towards the wheelchair. It takes several hops to get there, and by the end you are breathing heavily, your ribs protesting from the strain. Inching towards the door takes an agonizing length of time, what with only being able to push with one hand, and tears of frustration fill your eyes. “Screw it,” you mutter, unclipping the strap of your sling so you can move your left arm. Careful not to move too quickly, you move both wheels at the same time and sigh with relief as your chair rolls forward easily. Getting through the door is a trial, but then you are in the hallway. A few more pushes on the wheels and you find yourself at the top of the stairs. 

You slowly stand up, and grab onto the railing to avoid falling over as you teeter. Hop, hop, hop. Every stair is a success, determination overriding the adrenaline at the idea of slipping and falling. Before you know it you are at the bottom, and stop to take a breather. Your left quad is shaking with the strain and sudden exercise. ‘Almost there,’ you think to yourself, and hop towards the kitchen, leaning into the wall for support. The bottle of pills is right on the counter, but it takes you longer than you would like to find a glass and fill it with water. The pills are small and white, and you carefully read the instructions before taking two of them, resting on a stool while you get your breathing under control. You spot your phone on a nearby counter and hop over to it. Mark has plugged it in and the screen glows with the full battery sign. You unclip the charger one-handed, the other holding onto the counter, and slip your phone into your pocket. 

Exhaustion fills you and you decide to go back to your room to try and find some sleep. Making it back up the stairs is an entirely new struggle, and once you’re at the top you collapse into your now-familiar wheelchair, wheeling it around and back into your room. 

It takes twenty minutes for the drugs to kick in an you gratefully slip into a pain-free sleep.

_____

A ringing spreads softly through your dream, reminding you of something, but you can’t place it. Your sleep slips away as you realize it’s your ringtone. Someone is calling you. Blearily, you open your eyes on the last ring, glaring at your phone resting on the bedside table where you left it. You groan, rubbing your face as your phone beeps, letting you know there is a missed call and a message. You grab the phone, hazily punching in the voicemail code without seeing who called. 

Tony’s voice is unexpected and makes you jump slightly. “You seriously think you can get me arrested? Are you serious? Why would you do something like that? Call off the police now, or you’ll wish you were dead. You hear me? Dead.” The new, steely, defiant part of your rises up, and you delete the message. It takes a moment for you to realize you could have shown that message to the police and you curse, rubbing your face again as you put your phone back. 

You needn’t have worried, because this isn’t the last time he calls. 

The next time is in the evening. Mark has once again carried you and your wheelchair downstairs, and you are trying to get yourself some food when there is a ringing from your pocket. You juggle the plate and phone awkwardly to see who is calling. It’s Tony. You feel your stomach drop. 

“Who is it?” Mark asks, glancing over from the fridge. Upon seeing your face he sets down the container of food on the counter. “It’s him, isn’t it?” He goes to your side as your phone stops ringing. A few seconds later your phone beeps. You are scared to listen to the message. How is it that Tony can still control your life? It feels like he’s haunting your footsteps, not giving you a second to think clearly. Ghostlike, you punch in the code for voicemail. You push the speaker button so Mark can hear. At that moment Arin and Dan walk into the kitchen chuckling about something together, but pause when they see your faces. 

“What’s wrong, guys?” Arin asks. As if in reply, Tony’s voice spits from the phone, and you flinch.

“Stop ignoring me! You are such a child! Do you think you can hide from me? You have gone too far this time, sending the cops. Luckily I have quite a few connections, but don’t think for even a second that I can’t find you or that pathetic boy you ensnared. Sooner or later he’s gonna realize what a pathetic piece of trash you are, so you had better leave now and come home to where you belong. Call me back!” The last few words crackle with venom, leaving you shaking. The anger you felt earlier towards him doesn’t reappear, and the most you can summon is a little stubbornness. You won’t call him back, no matter what. 

Besides, you’re safe here.  
_____

The next week is full of pain and boredom. Your body heals agonizingly slowly. The worst times are when none of the guys are around and you are stuck in whatever room you find yourself, bored out of your mind. The second day you remember to call The Earlybird Cafe back, telling them about your accident and asking for some time to heal before you start working. Thankfully, they are very kind, and wish you well instead of taking back their job offer. 

You leave your phone on silent now to avoid hearing the constant calls Tony makes. He hasn’t left any more messages. You regain some freedom when the sling is no longer needed, and you can wheel yourself around with ease.The night your sling officially comes off, Mark orders Chinese food to celebrate. Dan and Arin joke around, taking turns racing you through the house in your chair. Mark yells encouragement and berates them for not running faster. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and you laugh with the rest of them when Arin trips over the couch. This place is beginning to feel like your home, and in this moment you are extra glad you left Tony. 

“Okay, okay!” Mark finally calls when your wheelchair almost tips over again, leaving you clinging to the seat as Arin corrects the turn. “Why don’t you goofballs come eat the food while its still hot!” There is general consensus and Arin pushes you to the kitchen. It has just gotten dark outside and the light inside gives the place a cheery feel. Your heart feels just as bright. You catch Mark’s eye, and for a moment you wish that he could see past the wheelchair and everything you owe him. For a moment you allow yourself to wonder what it would have been like to meet him under different circumstances. He is just handing you a plate when a car alarm goes off out front. 

“I’ll go check that out,” Dan says, grabbing a set of keys off the hooks on the wall, and leaving the room. A tingle of unease hits you, the same feeling that has been following you around all week. You can’t put your finger on exactly what is making you uneasy until the alarm shuts off and Dan runs back in. “Guys, you need to come see this.” The way he says it, skirting his eyes past yours, lets you know that this is about you. A weight settles in your stomach and you wheel yourself after the guys as they head to the front door and out into the night. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hear Arin say. You carefully wheel yourself through the front door, staying on the stoop, but even from here you can see what the guys are looking at. The car, Mark’s car in the driveway, is covered in spray paint and dents. The windshield is shattered and both of the tires you can see are flat. You can just make out some of the words that are spelled out in the paint. ‘Liar’ appears more than once, along with several swear words and your name. Some other kind of substance coats the car and you see Arin step in something, then try to wipe it off in the grass. “Gross. Egg,” you hear him mutter. 

Mark is running his hands through his hair over and over as he circles his ruined car. The happiness from earlier is gone, snuffed out with this demonstration. You know what it means. Tony has found you. For a second, hopelessness threatens to overwhelm you. Why can’t he just leave you alone? You haven’t done anything to him. You wheel your chair around, not willing to look at the car, or your friends trying to figure out how to fix it, anymore. You find your phone where you left it on the counter and turn it on for the first time in days. Maybe Tony sent something warning this would happen. Maybe there was a way you could have avoided this. You turn your sound on as your phone wakes up and you are suddenly bombarded with beeps. You have over fifty texts and twenty unheard messages. A panic starts to grow in your chest. Did Tony do all of this? Scrolling through your messages you don’t recognize most of the numbers, but the words are all similar. They all mention how you have betrayed Tony. Several state how you need to die for putting Tony through so much pain. You can’t bring yourself to listen to the voicemails. One text catches your eye. It is the only text that Tony has sent the entire week and it reads ‘Fine. Have it your way. I’m telling everybody what you’ve done. I’ll call them off if you come to your senses and come home.’ 

Mark enters the room, obviously looking for you. “Are you okay?” He sounds stressed. “I’m going to call the police, see if they can try to catch the people who did this.” He grabs his phone but then notices you shaking as you continue scrolling through the messages, barely reading them anymore. “What’s wrong?” he asks. You look up into his face and wish you could tell him how sorry you are for bringing all this trouble to his door. For a second you consider telling him he should have let you jump off that bridge. Instead you hand him your phone. His face grows stony as he reads some of the messages. “I’m calling the police,” he says, and he sounds really angry. You watch him as he stalks out of the room, leaving you alone with the forgotten Chinese food. 

One thought continues to stalk you. Tony knows where you are and he doesn’t care who’s car he ruins or who he messes with to get you back to him. If you ever thought you were free of him, you were wrong. You can hear Mark’s voice from the next room saying, “Hi, yes, someone just wrecked my car,” into his phone. Warm tears trickle from your eyes and the dam of frustration breaks inside you. You lower your face into your hands and sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Glad to see you are enjoying it. Please consider leaving kudos or a comment letting me know reactions, suggestions or questions. All feedback is appreciated!
> 
> I know I promised a chapter a day but I will be missing tomorrow as I move back to college. I want to give you guys good material and throwing something together while things are just getting good doesn't strike me as fair. Anyway, you can look for the next chapter August 28th.
> 
> Stay awesome!


	13. Hunted and Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has cornered you in everything that you do and you can't help the feeling of hopelessness that keeps following you around.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Lately, you have spent a lot of time in bed, not really sleeping but not really awake either. This seems easier than dealing with what is happening around you. You find that you are really tired all the time anyway, to the point where Mark, concerned, has asked if you are feeling alright. Just thinking about Mark makes you shift uncomfortably under the covers. You have brought down this hell on him. The car is fixable but will cost a lot of money and a lot of work. You can still remember the mix of anger and confusion in Mark’s expression when the police said all they could do was drive through the neighborhood more often. And it is all your fault that there are messages slipped under the door and squealing tires outside at night accompanied by screaming voices. Every night something rattles against the windows of the house as if you are under siege, and Mark has Officer Mastley on speed-dial. The one time in the past week that you have managed to get to the mail before the others you found three envelopes with no return addresses. All three were addressed to Mark, even though they didn’t use his name, describing how he should let you go back to where you really belong. 

You don’t use your phone anymore. You have tried blocking the numbers that repeatedly call you but to no avail; new numbers keep texting the same message. You wonder where Tony got so many friends, but then again, Tony never really introduced you to many of his friends. The temptation to look at the texts is still there and you turn your face from the ceiling to the bedside table where you phone rests, the green message light blinking. Mark made you promise to stop reading them, seeing how hurtful most of them were, and that is the only thing restraining your hand from reaching over and grabbing your phone. Instead you absentmindedly pick at a loose thread in the comforter. 

A soft knock comes at your door and you can hear Arin’s voice from behind it. “Hey, (Y/N). I hope I’m not waking you up but you should eat something before you go to the doctor’s today.” 

“Okay,” you call and hear his retreating footsteps. Glancing at the clock you can see that it is 2 PM. You have forgotten entirely that you have a checkup in an hour. Sighing heavily, you heave your legs around so that you are sitting up in bed and blearily rub your eyes, dragging a hand through your greasy hair and taking in your crumpled, slept-in clothing. Not only do you need to eat, you also have to do something about how awful you look. You are a pro at grabbing semi-clean clothes from the ground while you sit on the bed, getting dressed there since you can’t stand on your leg. The clothes littering the floor are ones that Mark has bought you. All of your stuff is still at Tony’s apartment and you can’t bring yourself to think about going near there. Now dressed in slightly less wrinkled clothing, you pull your messy and oily hair into a bun, hoping you are presentable enough. Grabbing the wheelchair from its place against the wall is now a habit, but getting in is still a chore. Your leg twinges painfully as you settle into place. 

You don’t bother collecting your phone from the table as you leave your room. You won’t use it anyway. At the top of the stairs you wait a second, and then, as usual, hating every second, you call down, “Hey, anybody able to give me a lift?” A few seconds pass before Mark steps into view, his usual grin warming your insides. 

“Yes, my lady? Did I hear you call?” he replies jokingly. 

“Just get me down, please,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You enjoy that he does’t mind helping you down the stairs every time you need it, but also feel a deep seated hatred for yourself that it even needs to happen in the first place. 

“Sure thing,” he answers and helps lift you up from the chair so you can cling to the railing and hop down the stairs. He grabs the wheelchair and brings it down after you, helping you sit down again at the bottom. 

“I’m hoping they move me to crutches,” you say, resignedly letting Mark push you to the kitchen. 

Mark sits next to you at the counter, watching you pick at your food. “Hey, how are you doing?” he asks. His voice is gentle and you look at him questioningly. 

“I’m fine. Still really tired,” you answer, looking back down at your plate. 

“Hey,” he says, drawing your attention away from mixing your food together. You realize that he is trying to connect and get you to talk to him, like all those coffee dates that seem like ages ago. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You sigh, hating the part of you that wants to clamp down and not answer. “I’m okay. It’s just, Tony’s never going to leave me alone, is he? He’s never going to leave you alone while I’m living here.”

You feel his hand on your arm, surprisingly warm, and you look at him again. “Hey, we can do this. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about Dan and Arin and don’t even worry about Tony. We can make it. It’ll all turn out okay.” The confidence in his voice stops the contradicting dialogue in your head from breaking out, and instead you nod and focus on your food. How does he know it’ll all be okay? As far as you can tell, Tony is ruthless, and to be honest, you are scared. 

Even though you don’t feel hungry you eat some of the food you have pushed into a small mountain in front of you, and then let Mark help you out to the car. You have learned not to fight him when he tries to help, even though you feel worse when he does. You don’t deserve his kindness. Arin joins you two in the car and they keep up a conversation as you stare out the window at the passing streets. The hospital is not as large as you thought it was the last time you were there, but just as confusing inside as a nurse leads you to a waiting room. The walls are boring and several other people sit stonily in the seats. You accidentally roll over someones foot and mutter a quick apology but they don’t respond. 

A sweet looking nurse comes up to you. “(Y/N)(L/N)?” You nod. “Okay, I am going to be taking you to your follow-up x-ray and MRI scan. Your friends can wait here for you.” As she wheels you away, you glance back. Mark gives an encouraging thumbs up while Arin pages through a magazine. For some reason them disappearing around the corner fills you with sadness. They could just leave now if they wanted to and go back to their house. They could escape the trials Tony is putting you through. They could leave you here and you would have nowhere else to go. 

That fear follows you down the hallway on the way to the tests. 

_____

“Good news and bad news.” Dr. Kennedy tells you as you sit awkwardly on the cold exam table. “The good news is that you are well on the way to recovering from your concussion. Your shoulder is also much better and so as long as you are still cautious about raising your arm quickly, you should be fine.” She shifts her clipboard a little and you admire the neat way her hair is pulled back, unlike your sloppy bun. “The bad news is that the fracture in your leg does not appear to be healing as quickly as we want it to. Is it still hurting?” You nod and she sighs as if she already knew the answer. “It’s going to be fine in the long run but the recovery is going to last longer. Now, because your shoulder is healed we are going to move you onto crutches instead of the wheelchair, but you still have to keep all your weight off your right leg until you are further along in the healing process. 

“Okay,” you say because she is waiting for an answer, and smile, thinking about the freedom the crutches will bring. 

She sighs slightly, looking at you in a caring way. “I know the recovery process is very frustrating. It can take a while to feel normal again after something traumatic like this.” You nod and she goes back to her business tone. “Because there is still pain in your leg, I am going to send you home with another bottle of the same prescription painkillers. Be sure to only take them when necessary because they are pretty potent.” 

A couple of minutes later you limp out to the waiting room, no one pushing you around for once. The crutches give loud clicks as they hit the floor. Click, step. Click, step. Click, step. Mark and Arin look up as you come through the doorway, and congratulate you for getting the crutches. The sight of them still waiting for you does a little to dispel the fear that they would leave you.

Mark swings by the nearest general store on the way home, and you follow the guys around the aisles on your new crutches. The more you use them, the more you find yourself missing your wheelchair. They cut into your armpits, chafing the skin and making you sweat exceedingly as you struggle to keep up with the guys. Your pride won’t let you ask them to slow down and you huff and puff as you try to keep their pace. Several bags of chips and a box of Cheeze-its later, and you are lagging behind. Click, step, pause. Click, step, pause. 

Mark looks back to see your reaction to one of Arin’s jokes, and you can see the worry flash across his face. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

“Just a little tired,” you respond. You realize you are swaying precariously on your crutches and your knuckles are white from grabbing the bars too hard, trying to gain stability.

“Do you want to go wait in the car while we pay?” Mark asks. 

You are about to decline, but your body protests, your muscles shaking from the unfamiliar strain. “Yeah, I think that would be good,” you respond, and he hands you the keys. Slipping them into your pocket gingerly, you turn and exit the store. You pause on the sidewalk outside the entrance to look carefully both ways. The parking lot is crowded with cars and you aren’t sure they will stop if you get in their way. Getting hit by a car once is one too many times for you. As you watch another go by swiftly you hear your name from behind you. 

You turn to see a girl about your age running up to you, her strait blonde hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. She stops just short of bumping into you, giving you an expectant smile. “I knew it was you!” You recognize her vaguely as one of Tony’s friends who he had introduced to you to sometime in the past year. Though she is smiling, she doesn’t look particularly happy. 

“Hi,” you say, feeling something is required of you. 

“You remember me, don’t you? It’s Cassy.” You nod and her smile disappears as she leaps right into the topic of conversation at hand. “What’s up with you and Tony? Like, everyone’s saying that you guys had a huge fight and now you won’t talk to him. A bunch of the guys are trying to get you to go back to Tony. Are you going to go?” Her tone holds no time for nonsense and her eyes skewer you as if she will throw a punch if you say the wrong thing. 

You swallow nervously, awkwardly shifting on the crutches. You are tired and realize that you don’t want to make up anything just to please this girl. “I’m not going back to Tony,” you say bluntly, meaning every word. “I broke up with him. He can’t seem to realize that.” 

The girl smirks a little, as if trying to decide if you are telling the truth, and pauses a second before saying, “You’re telling me everything, right?” You nod. Her face grows intensely serious and even though she is slightly shorter than you, she seems to grow in size. “Because, if you think for even a second that you deserve to be with someone like Tony, you should go back to the sad little place you came from. You stay away from Tony! You hear me? Stay away! You are so not worthy of him, and he is so much better off without you, you stupid bitch!” She is in your face now and you take a step back. The jealousy in her voice seems to hover in the air as she quivers with emotion in front of you. She is jealous that Tony wants you! 

You almost laugh in disbelief but at that moment the doors behind you open and you hear Mark’s voice. “What’s going on?” Cassy gives a huff, flips her hair and flounces away, leaving you standing stunned and wobbly on your crutches. She casts one last angry look over her shoulder at you and then disappears through the doors of the store. “Who was that?” Mark asks, looking confused and worried. “Are you okay?” he rests a hand on your shoulder. 

“One of Tony’s friends,” you make yourself say. The meeting with Cassy has left you breathless, scared that any place could hold one of Tony’s friends in disguise. “And I’m fine. Let’s just go.” You stare out the window silently on the way home, the crutches propped next to you in the back seat. As the car turns onto Mark’s street you can see a cop car up ahead, parked in front of the house. Dan is there, talking with the officer who looks oddly familiar. It is hard to figure out why you recognize him before you are distracted by the large graffitied letters on the siding of the house. 

‘For peace, kick her out’

You hang on as Mark parks the car abruptly and jumps out. “Hello, Officer Mastley,” you say, recognizing the officer as you clamber out of the car and onto your crutches. Mark is running towards the siding of the house, trying to get a good look at how far the damage goes. His hands are running through his hair again. You hear him swear. 

“Right, Ms. (L/N). I’ve been meaning to get back to you about the investigation into your accident.” He shifts, and looks down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “There weren’t any cameras in the part of the parking lot where the accident happened, and no eye witnesses. Tony denies even being in that parking lot that night, and we can’t find any way to prove that he was. And before you ask, there isn’t any connection between him and this.” He nods towards the lettering on the house. Arin comes to stand next to you, his arms crossed. 

“That’s ridiculous!” Dan is saying as you nod. A pit has opened inside of you that you did not know existed. You have been holding out hope in the back of your mind that it was just a matter of time before the police caught up to Tony, that it was only a matter of time before someone stopped him. Now there is no such hope. You stare up at the house and the dark letters. Mark has disappeared around the side and you find yourself wishing that it could all just end anyway. No more Tony, no more messages, no more fear, no more shame or hate or pain or threats…or Mark. No more disappointing Mark or making him pay for everything or accepting his charity with no way to give him anything in return. He should’ve let you jump off that bridge all those weeks ago. 

As Dan and Arin try to argue pointlessly with Officer Mastley on the finer points of harassment and violent relationships, you walk up the driveway and go inside, shutting the door and the noise behind you. Weariness drags at your limbs as you climb the stairs with your crutches. Something dark is swirling in your mind and you don’t have enough strength to fight it. After all, why fight? There is no point anymore because it will never stop. Tony will never stop coming. You will never be able to escape him. What if Mark had left you at the hospital? What if Tony had killed you with the car? What if Mark had crossed a different bridge that night? Maybe things would have been better in the long run. No, you know things would have been better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guess what?!? You guys get 2 uploads today! Look for the next chapter in a few hours! 
> 
> Please leave kudos or a comment saying what you enjoyed, suggestions, reactions or questions! Any and all feedback is appreciated! Thanks to my sister for editing this!


	14. Let Me Fade Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are looking for an escape. Tony followed you once. Tony followed you twice. Now he will follow you no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WARNING: major trigger-warning in this chapter. Reader's discretion is greatly advised. 
> 
> Thanks to my sister for helping me edit this. Please consider leaving kudos or a comment telling me reactions, suggestions or questions. Any and all feedback is appreciated!

The bed is comfortable and you gladly lay there for the rest of the day, through dinner and into the night. You hear the house slowly grow quiet, and after a while you turn on the lamp, sitting up when the clock reads 12:30 AM. You pull a piece of paper and a pen over to your lap and start writing the words that you have been thinking about for the past few hours. 

Dear Mark,  
I realize this is a stupid thing to do. I know that this will probably hurt you a lot and I am incredibly sorry about that. But, I can’t keep living in Tony’s shadow, looking over my shoulder every time I leave the house. Please understand, this is my escape. I have tried escaping him before and I know that he controls everything. He’s even controlling us right now, holding the possibility of another horrible something over our heads. I know I told you once that with you next to me I wouldn’t be able to jump off that bridge anymore. Please know that it isn’t you who has changed. It’s me.   
You have been my safety net and I am incredibly grateful to you. Tony is trying to tear you away from me, trying to get you to throw me out, but this is my way of not letting him do that anymore.   
This is my choice. Thank you, and goodbye. 

The words sound stiff on paper, not nearly as good as they sounded in your head but you write your name at the bottom of the note anyway and fold it up nicely, writing ‘Mark’ on the outside and placing it on your pillow. With the help of the crutches you straighten the sheets on your bed and clean the room thoroughly, attempting to leave it as if you had never lived there. You throw the clothes strewn on the floor in the garbage, hoping Mark doesn’t see it as his money going to waste, then you leave the bedside lamp on and survey your work. The room looks neat and surprisingly small without the usual clutter. 

The green message light on you phone blinks silent and tempting on the bedside table. You sit on the nicely made bed and stare at the phone, the gateway of all the harassment. Sighing in resignation, you grab the phone and open your texts. Your inbox is full and you realize that the messages have grown worse. Of course, there are still the texts solely arguing for you to go back to Tony, but a lot of them are now much more caustic. ‘just go die please’ one reads, followed by a similar one, reading ‘don’t even know why Tony is trying to get a bitch like you back. go die in a hole’. Each word hurts. You look at the mountains of razor-sharp words attacking you for running away. You feel shattered, no longer able to pick yourself up and put yourself back together. Tears are close behind your eyes but you stubbornly refuse to let them exit into the open air. 

You look at the clock again, now showing just past 1 AM. Knowing the schedule of the house, Dan and Arin are probably already in their beds and Mark is either in bed or still editing away downstairs. You sigh, feeling your limbs dragged down by hopelessness yet again. Will they really care that you are gone? Following through with this will remove a heavy burden from their shoulders. You leave the door to the guest room cracked open, allowing the light from inside to send a strip of illumination through the dark hallway. You walk slowly to the bathroom across the hall. This is the only room with a lock on the door. 

The light is blinding in contrast to the darkness outside and you quickly shut the door behind you, making sure to turn the lock. You leave your crutches against the wall and lean against the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror. All you see is a pathetic girl who can never make the right choices in life. The line of stitches stands out on the edge of your hairline against your greasy shock of messy hair, and your eyes have huge circles under them. You can hardly recognize yourself. ‘Tony has taken everything from me,’ you think, trying to remember the person you used to be before him. Tears well in your eyes, turning your face an ugly blotchy pink as you try to remember your self from years ago. Giving up, you open the drawer in the cabinet next to the sink and sift through thermometers, tweezers and nail clippers to find the extra razor heads. Each head has two slim razors on it and with a little work from some nail clippers one of them falls free. You pick up the slim piece of metal, gingerly running your finger along the edge without pressing too hard. ‘This will work,’ you think grimly through the tears. To be honest with yourself, in all the time laying in bed and wishing you could escape the world you had slowly come up with a plan. The most dangerous kind of plan. 

Now that you are in process, you aren’t nervous. You expect butterflies but they don’t come as you root around in the medicine cabinet and pull out your painkillers. You grab a cup from the sink, leaving the razor near the soap, and fill it with water. Then you pour the rest on the painkillers into your hand. There are over twenty of them, a small pile of white pills that nearly fills your palm. Two of these every six hours is the limit, and even that dose makes you drowsy. 

You pause, staring at the pills and then at the razor. There is still time to turn back, rip up the letter and go to bed. But what then? What is there tomorrow but another day of hell and running from Tony? The harassment, the shocking pain of the messages from people who you don’t even know telling you to die, the look on Mark’s face when he realized what had happened to his car…these thoughts swirl through your mind and you let the tears flow. You feel a familiar feeling rise over you—you can picture a pure velvet sky stretching over you, and you are ready to fly into the unknown. For a second you are back on that bridge as if no time has passed, and realize the same thing has happened now that had happened then. Tony controls everything. There is only one way to escape his clutches forever. 

It takes three swallows to take all of the pills in your hand, and you gag a little before downing the last of them. Next, you grab the razor. This is the backup part of your plan. There is always the possibility that the medication will not be enough to kill you and there is also always the possibility that you will not be able to cut deep enough to bleed out. Together, hopefully you can fade away entirely. 

You slowly sit down, surprisingly calm despite the continuous tears making your eyes puffy, with your back against the wall and feet against the cabinet next to the sink. A secure position. Your right leg whimpers a protest, and you fiercely enjoy the fact that you won’t have to feel that pain anymore. You hold the razor in your right hand and hold your left arm out, away from your body. Squeezing your eyes shut, you slash down with the razor, then slash again and again, barely pausing until you have five cuts in a row on your arm. Pain hits you like a strike of fire and you feel your body begin to shake uncontrollably. You open your eyes to see ruby beads decorating your arm. In just a few seconds your pant leg is soaked and a small pool begins to form on the tile floor. Shakily, you pass the razor to your left hand but only manage to score two cuts near your wrist before the razor slips from your shaking and bloody fingers. 

You don’t regret your choice. You don’t regret much of anything. Instead you watch, distantly curious as the pool of burgundy spreads slowly across the floor. You shift slightly to get in a more comfortable position and the movement causes a shaft of pain to radiate through your body. You can’t help a gasp, and your foot kicks the cabinet. Your empty medication bottle falls and bounces on the floor. ‘Let me go,’ you think to the world. ‘Let me just disappear, let everything just fade away.’

Slowly, the world is turning gray in the corners of your vision, and spots swim in front of your eyes. Distantly, you can hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Your heart beats faster and your stomach drops. No, not now! Nobody is supposed to be awake! Your vision swims as you turn your head to face the door. You can’t move the rest of your body anymore, and the shaking has stopped. There are footsteps in the hallway now, and your eyelids droop. You are so tired. It is time to sleep. 

You can’t open your eyes anymore but your ears pick up sounds; The door to the guest room creaking open as someone knocks on it. From the gait you can tell it’s Mark. There is no sound for what seems like a long time, but could have been only seconds. Then more footsteps and a sudden pounding on the bathroom door. Had you been in your right senses, this would have caused a jolt of adrenaline through you, but as it is, the sound reaches you as if through a long tunnel. 

“(Y/N)! Open the door! Open the door now!” Mark’s urgent voice sounds quiet and reaches you like deep rumbles through water, lapping at your skin. A thud against the door. Another thud against the door. A pause. A splintering of wood and suddenly the bathroom is filled with the smell of Mark. Sounds are much louder now. “No! Nonononono!” someone cries, and you recognize the voice as Mark’s, but just barely. You have never heard him sound so desolate. You feel him kneel by your side. You try to raise your head to look at him but now you can’t move at all. “ARIN! DAN! WAKE UP! I NEED YOU! OH MY GOD! NOOO! (Y/N)! (Y/N)! ANSWER ME!” his booming voice fills what is left of your consciousness, bouncing around with a dreamlike quality in your head. Hands are grabbing at you and you feel yourself being pulled into Mark’s lap. One arm supports your shoulders, but with his other hand you can feel him checking for a pulse in your neck. You can feel your heartbeat throbbing under his finger weakly as if giving you away. 

“What the hell, Mark,” comes Dan’s sleepy voice from down the hall. You can hear his intake of breath when he can see into the bathroom. His voice raises an octave as he says “Oh my god.” 

“Dan, call the police. We need an ambulance. She’s still alive,” Mark says thickly. You realize he is crying as he cradles your body. 

“Shit,” you hear Arin say and faintly hear Mark order him to go get towels. You can feel the hand towel that was hanging on its hook next to the sink being pressed forcefully across your left arm, trying to staunch the blood flow. Mark is shaking, his body so close to yours, yet it seems miles away. You want to comfort him, and so you fight against the warm, sleepy darkness back into the world of pain. Light pierces your eyelids as you blink once. 

With most of your energy you manage to mumble one word. “Mark.” You are glad he is here. He is one of your friends, after all. He is your best friend, your coffee friend, the one always checking to see how you are doing, sneaking you smiles and wacky faces to make you laugh. It is only fair that he is here now. 

“I’m here,” you hear him sob. “Just stay with me, okay? Just stay with me, and don’t go anywhere!” Your eyes close again, and everything seems to fade a little. Mark’s tears are falling, cold drops on your face. “(Y/N)? (Y/N).” 

With a sob he leans down and kisses you fully on the lips.

That lingering feeling accompanies you as you fade away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter coming tomorrow...stay tuned


	15. The Choices We Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake in the hospital, confused. Why aren't you dead, and why isn't anyone mad at you? Beyond that, why is everyone shouting?

Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…

Sound slowly infiltrates your consciousness. Low voices flutter at the edges of perception. A strong scent is in your nose, and you recognize it as a hospital smell. You shift slightly, feeling the clean sheets on your skin. Your eyelids are heavy and your entire body is still wrapped gently in a sleepy sensation. Opening your eyes, you blink to clear the blurriness as everything comes into focus; the curtained off section of the hospital, the wires hooking you to nearby machines, weak fluorescent lighting overhead. Your arms feel heavy and you look down to see your forearms heavily bandaged in white cloth. You have a clip on your finger that monitors your heart rate, causing the machine next to you to beep in time. 

“Hey,” says a voice gently at your side. Mark is sitting there, leaning forward as he notices you are awake. “Hey, how are you feeling?” His eyes are familiar pools of brown, and you can only find caring there, where you expected anger. 

It takes a minute to move your face, but then you frown. “What happened?” you ask blearily. You voice sounds hoarse to your ears, grating harshly through your throat. 

“Don’t you remember…?” Mark says, a touch of concern brushing his face. 

“I mean,” you swallow, “I mean, why am I here? Why aren’t I dead?” The words sound harsh but you hope your expression shows that you are only curious. In the strange sleepy state you are in, it is hard to feel any other emotion. 

Mark looks down at his hands before running one through his hair. “Well, the ambulance came and I remembered your blood type from when you were in the car accident and had to get tested, so they were able to give you a blood transfusion. When they got to the hospital they pumped your stomach and got rid of the pills that you took.” He looks at you to see your reaction, but all you can think of is how hard it must have been to clean the bathroom floor. 

Mark’s expression stays warm and caring, no touch of blame in his eyes at all. Another question comes to mind. “Why aren’t you mad?” you ask bluntly. “Why aren’t you mad at me for trying to kill myself?” 

His forehead creases as he thinks, and he reaches forward to take your hand almost like a reflex. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself.” He frowns, obviously feeling bad about something. You frown back because you don’t understand. 

“Why?” Every word hurts, but you feel deep inside that this conversation is important. 

He thinks for a second then blurts his thoughts out. “I’m mad at myself because I didn’t see it coming. I thought you were fine! But—But…and then you didn’t think you could come to me when you were feeling that way. I screwed up. I should’ve made myself more available! I should have been there!” His voice rises as he talks, showing his anger towards what he didn’t do in time and before he has even finished you are sleepily shaking your head. 

“It wasn’t you. It was all me.” The conversation is making your head hurt, so you close your eyes and continue. “I didn’t want to burden you further. You’ve done so much for me and I can never pay it back. I brought Tony down on you. It’s all my fault.” 

You feel Mark shift and force your eyes open to look at him. He is smiling, his forehead still wrinkled with concern, but his eyes warm and caring. “Hey, none of the stuff with Tony is your fault. It’s all his fault, okay? You shouldn’t blame yourself for any of what he did. And you don’t need to worry about paying me back. Just having you around makes up for everything.” He squeezes your hand. 

You look away, back at your bandaged arms, then up at the ceiling. In your sleepy state it is hard to argue with him. Something comes to mind, and the words come out of your mouth almost unbidden. “Remember when you told me that you thought I was really stubborn and could do anything I wanted to? Well, I took that to mean that I was strong enough to go back to Tony, but you didn’t mean it that way, did you? You meant I was strong enough to stay away from Tony.” You feel more than see Mark nod, but continue before he says anything. “Well, since I’m stubborn and can do anything I want, why can’t I seem to kill myself?” 

You look over at Mark. You had meant the question rhetorically, not really expecting him to have an answer, but he surprises you by responding. “Maybe part of you wants to stay.” You stare into his eyes for a second and in your sleepy state the moment strikes you as incredibly cheesy. 

“Or some guy keeps grabbing me unexpectedly,” you say, through a weak smile, hoping he knows you are teasing. 

He smiles back. “That’s me,” he quips, “that stubborn guy who saves dying girls.”

In your sleepy state you have no filter and say “Or that stubborn guy who kisses dying girls.” 

Marks smile disappears and he looks incredibly nervous. “I didn’t know if you’d remember that.” He looks at you as if expecting a huge reaction. 

You blink at the stubborn sleepy wall in your mind and pause. “Can we talk about it more when my head’s not all fuzzy?” you ask and he nods, seeming relieved. 

The curtain at the foot of the bed is opened and you have a weird deja-vu experience, remembering the last time you were in the hospital. In walks Dr. Kennedy, her hair neatly pulled back as usual. “Oh good, you’re awake!” she says, smiling at you. You are confused for a second as to why she isn’t mad either because you feel as if you have let her down too. “Don’t worry if you are feeling a little fuzzy right now, you are still sedated in an attempt to keep your emotions stable as you recover from this. Now, I have to ask you some questions about your mental state through the past couple of weeks to the present, okay? And I will need you to be as honest as possible with me.” You nod and she looks down at her clipboard and reads the first question. “How many days in the past two weeks have you been feeling any hopelessness, or feeling of letting your family, your friends or yourself? The possible answers are Every Day, Most Days, Several Days or No Days.” She looks up at you, and the answer is surprisingly easy, although a little awkward with Mark there listening. 

“Every day,” you answer and she marks something on the piece of paper. 

The questions continue, asking about your sleeping and eating habits, your mental state, and plans or past attempts at self-harm and suicide. Your head clears slowly, still staying slightly foggy, but it is easier to pay attention now than when you woke up. Dr. Kennedy writes on her clipboard, tallying something. “(Y/N), have you ever been diagnosed with depression?” 

“No,” you answer. You have never really considered yourself the kind of person who would be depressed. Sure you have felt hopeless and tired, but was that really depression?

“Has anyone in your immediate or extended family been diagnosed with depression?” 

You wrack your brain but come up with nothing and shake your head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Okay, well those are all my questions for the time being. I am working closely with a health psychologist by the name of Dr. Berry on your case. He is currently studying the effects of long-term injuries on mental health, and given your accident, he is the one with the most knowledge in the field. However, your case is unique given your relationship drama, which can also have an effect on your mental well-being since it effects your life so much. Currently we are trying to determine if we should put you on antidepressants and see how you react to those. We are going to keep you here for a few days for monitoring, and I will be in touch if you have any questions.” You return her kinds smile. 

Dr. Kennedy is just standing when a nurse hurries through the curtain, speaking directly to her. “There are some people who are demanding to see her. They say they're family?” 

Dr. Kennedy looks at you. “Are you awake enough for visitors or should I tell them to wait?” Apparently it doesn’t matter if you are awake enough or not, because in the next second the curtain is swept aside by the whirlwind that is your mother. Her familiar figure is followed by your father. 

“(Y/N)! I am so glad you are alright!” your mother cries, hurrying to your bedside to engulf you in one of her squishing hugs. Mark just barely manages to dodge, coming to stand at your shoulder as your mother fusses. “I can’t believe you! Cutting your arms? And pills too?” She sighs and turns to talk to Dr. Kennedy as if you are still a small child. “She’s always been this dramatic, you know. Never thinking about what she’s doing before she does it.” 

You feel your father squeeze your hand and you manage a weak smile at him before interrupting your mother. “Mom, Dad, why are you guys here? And—“ you voice trails off as someone follows your father through the curtain. You redirect your question. “Tony, why are you here?” You feel Mark stiffen next to you. 

Your mom answers your question, oblivious to the sudden increase in beeping from the machine next to her as your heart rate goes up. “Well, we are still your emergency contacts, you know. And we called Tony, poor boy. He didn’t even know you were in the hospital.” 

“I had to come see you,” Tony speaks up from the foot of your bed. A wild, nervous energy surrounds him and you feel uneasy even through the medication. Dr. Kennedy is looking worriedly at the group of people around your bed. Tony puts his bag down on top of your feet and you stare at the man who has caused you so much trouble. The fogginess in your mind is clearing, but your thoughts still move sluggishly. Tony flashes a brilliant smile at you, somehow looking both suave and bashful at the same time, a familiar recipe. “I need you, babe. You gotta take me back!” 

“Tony,” you manage before your mom cuts you off. 

“Oh, Baby, are you two fighting again? You know you really should learn to just be calm and—“ 

This time Mark cuts your mom off, speaking up from just out of your line of sight. “Hang on. They aren’t fighting. She broke up with him when he hit her with a car!” 

“Didn’t happen!” Tony protests from the foot of your bed. The wild energy from before breaks through his suave demeanor, and his hand tightens around the handle of his bag. 

“Even if we can’t prove it was you, it has been you harassing her for days, sending her toxic messages, egging my car and vandalizing my house!” Mark shoots back. You sluggish mind slowly follows the argument, too slow to leap in. 

“Who are you supposed to be?” your mom asks Mark.

“I’m Mark, one of (Y/N)’s friends,” he replies calmly. 

You mother clucks, turning a judging eye on Dr. Kennedy. “Since when do friends see the patient before family?”

Dr. Kennedy raises her hands at the growing volume. “You know, (Y/N) has had a rough day, and is probably very tired. I think it’s time for everyone to leave. You can see her later.” She makes shooing gestures with her hands and correspondingly the nurse next to her starts towards Tony, who is closest, to guide him out to the waiting room. 

“No, I’m not going to leave,” he says, waving her off. 

Your mother huffs. “Come along Tony, (Y/N) will just have to talk to us later.” She starts walking toward the curtain and the nurse moves to shoo at Tony again.

“No!” Tony yells. The impact of his strong voice makes even your mother jump. “I am not leaving this room until she takes me back or—“ he reaches into the bag and pulls out a gun, black and about the size of his big hand, “or until she’s dead!” 

The sudden emergence of the gun makes everyone take a step back from Tony. He raises it, his arm shaking slightly with emotion as he points it right at you. “Choose your next words carefully,” he growls. The ever-present lump reappears in your throat, and even if you wanted to speak, you can’t say anything. Your hands start to shake.

Then the curtain at the end of your bed is yanked to the side yet again, and a unformed police officer steps into the space, looking alarmed at the picture in front of him. “Am I interrupting?” asks Officer Mastley. 

“Stay back!” Tony yells, moving to hold the gun with both hands. His eyes dart from side to side to make sure nobody is moving. Officer Mastley has his hand on his gun, but obviously is afraid to draw in such a small space with so many people. 

Your mind is finding the sudden influx of drama very confusing, and you sluggishly move your trembling hands in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture. Your mom apparently has other ideas. “Tony!” she says, sounding shocked. “Why do you have that?” Her eyes never leave the gun and she is clutching your father’s arm tightly. Given your dad’s wincing face, he wishes she had chosen somebody else to latch onto. 

“All due respect, Mrs. (L/N), but shut up!” Tony yells wildly. “This is between me and (Y/N)!” You stare up at him and the gun pointed at your head. In a normal situation more than just your hands would be trembling, you might even be crying. But with the sedative in your bloodstream all you feel is uneasiness and a profound confusion. Staring into the barrel of a gun makes everything simpler, and the lump in your throat melts into nothing.

“Tony,” you say again, but this time Officer Mastley jumps in. 

“Hey, son. I want you to think very carefully about what you are doing right now.”

“Shut up!” Tony screams, waving the gun around. Everyone takes a small step back except for Mark, who puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Shut up! I want to hear what she has to say!” Sweat is running down his face, and his arms hold the gun rigidly out in front of him. 

You clear your throat before answering. Everyone is looking at you but you focus on Tony. “Tony, you know that I love you. But I can’t be with you anymore. Every time I think we could still work you end up loosing it and I end up in the emergency room with bruises or stitches. It needs to stop. So I am not going to lie to you right now. I won’t tell you that I’m coming home with you. Because I’m not doing that. I stand by what I said the last time we spoke face to face. We are done.” 

Tony’s eyes bulge out of his head, and with a nudge of doubt you think that maybe he will shoot you after all. But then his shoulders start shaking and you see tears in his eyes. “You don’t mean that!” he yells but his tone has lost some of its intensity. 

“Tony, I don’t think we were ever meant to be,” you continue. “I’m sorry.” Tears fall down his face, and his shoulders continue to shake with silent sobs. He slowly lowers the gun. Officer Mastley quickly grabs it from him, placing it out of reach behind him on a table, and turns an unresisting Tony to where he can handcuff his hands behind his back. Tony’s eyes never leaves yours as Officer Mastley tells him his rights into the shocked silence. Then your ex-boyfriend is pulled through the curtain, and regular quiet hospital sounds surround you once more. 

There is a stunned moment before Dr. Kennedy clears her throat. “Okay. This is too much excitement too quickly for (Y/N) today. She needs rest, not people fighting. I’m going to have to ask all of you to wait in the waiting room, or come back for visiting hours on another day. Yes, even you,” she says to both your mother and Mark who have opened their mouths to protest. 

Your mother gives you a big hug, though she seems slightly distracted before leaving the room, muttering about too much excitement. Your father follows her. Mark squeezes your hand and you look up into his brown eyes, feeling a smile break over your face. “Hey, I’m proud of you. I’ll be here, no matter what, okay? I’m not gonna leave.” You nod and he allows himself to be herded out by the frazzled nurse. 

Dr. Kennedy grabs her clipboard, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to post one of the security guards right outside, okay? Nobody is getting in here without being checked over first. How are you feeling?” 

You look up at her and try to pinpoint exactly what the lighthearted feeling inside you is about. With halting words you manage to describe it to the best of your abilities. “I feel okay. I was staring at the gun and at Tony, and I didn’t want him to shoot. Mark was right.” 

You look at her, seeing her caring eyes, and remembering how Mark had looked at you in a similar way, no judgement at all. You can still remember the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“I want to live,” you say simply, and feel as if you are soaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, only one more chapter after this one and it will be the epilogue to tie up the loose ends. Thank you so much for sticking with this fic and for all the positive feedback. As always, I have to give a big thanks to my sister who has spent hours going over everything to make sure it wasn't horrible. 
> 
> As usual, please consider leaving a kudos or a comment telling me any suggestions, questions or reactions. Any and all feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Stay awesome!


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Released from both the hospital and crutches, there is just one thing left to do.

“We don’t have to do this today,” Mark says, as you carefully walk down the driveway to his new car. You don’t miss the click of the crutches in the slightest, and even though you know the muscles in your right leg are weak, you are determined to be back to normal. 

“Yes we do,” you respond, “It’s time. I was just waiting for the go-ahead to get off those stupid crutches before I went over there.” Your newfound freedom from your crutches started thismorning after your last check-up with Dr. Kennedy. It is about a month after you left the hospital, and the medication Dr. Kennedy and Dr. Berry prescribed you has turned your life around. You look around appreciatively before getting in the passenger seat. The morning is clear, and the sun is warmly shining.

Mark drives slowly through the streets, and you feel a squirm of nervousness inside about what you are about to do. “Is he going to be there?” Mark asks. 

“No,” you answer, “I don’t think so. Last I heard he was still in jail, waiting for his trial.” Mark nods and pulls up outside Tony’s apartment. You fish the key out of your purse, staring down at the little thing. The apartment building looks so familiar, but it isn’t home anymore. You take a deep breath, determined, and get out of the car. Mark follows you closely as you enter the building and go to the apartment door. 

Somehow, the place is smaller than you remember. You let the memories from your time here flow through you as you head to your room to get your suitcase.

This wall is where Tony hit you for the first time. That small kitchen is where he would scream at you for hours. The memories hurt, but you let them come because you are trying to accept what happened and move on. The suitcase is just large enough to fit all your clothes from your dresser, and you zip it shut, looking around your room to see what else you can take. You slide your laptop into the front pocket of the suitcase, but leave the bedspread that Tony bought you. Mark stands at the doorway, waiting for instructions. “The crockpot in the kitchen is mine,” you tell him and he turns to leave, on a mission. You think for a second longer and call after him. “Actually, all the pots and pans are also mine, but I don’t want them. We could take the blender though. I think it’s better than the one you have at your house.” 

You turn to your closet and look at the dresses hanging there. Some of them you have only worn once before Tony decided you couldn’t wear them anymore. You shrug, grabbing as many as you can and pile them on top of your suitcase. You can always donate them later; Tony’s old opinions don’t matter anymore. Moving the dresses unveils a big brown cardboard box sitting in the back of your closet, and you pull it out. It’s heavy. Inside rests all the presents Tony gave you when he made up with you and you went back with him. The nice satin boxes full of necklaces and earrings almost fill the box. The only thing missing is the box with the diamond earrings you threw away that night. You crouch there, wondering at the amount within. Did you really break up with Tony this many times? You grab one of the top boxes and open it to see a simple, delicate pendant portraying a kitten hanging from a thin chain. You snap it closed as you remember Tony clasping the necklace around your neck, skirting over the bruises on your shoulder as if they were never there. You can’t wear any of these, but that doesn’t mean no one can. You close the top of the box firmly before grabbing a marker from the desk and write ‘DONATE’ in bold letters on the top. 

Mark sticks his head in the room. “Do you want any of the dishes?” In his hand he holds the blender. 

“Nope, shattered one too many of those,” you reply with a grin. He always manages to make you smile. Waggling his eyebrows and giving you a funny face, he disappears again and you sigh slightly. You need to talk with him about everything. Weeks have passed, and somehow the time he kissed you has never come up. You grab the pile of dresses and the suitcase, and haul them out to the living room where Mark has set down the blender on the coffee table and is looking out the window. 

“It’s a nice view,” he comments as you come in. Seeing him standing there in Tony’s apartment is incredibly surreal, and you can’t manage to respond. He turns around. “Are you okay?” he asks, seeing your expression. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you comfort, waving your hands to take in the space, “its just weird being back is all.” He nods and comes over, grabbing the handle of your suitcase and the blender. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Definitely,” you say, pulling the mound of dresses into a better position. You follow him down to the car and he loads your suitcase into the trunk with the blender. You remember the box from upstairs. “I have to go grab something,” you tell mark and hand him the pile of dresses before running back into the building. 

The apartment feels even emptier somehow than when you were there minutes ago, and you quickly get the box from your room. You close the door behind you, taking your key out of the lock before dropping it on the ground. It glints lightly against the floor and you turn your back on it, leaving behind Tony’s apartment forever. 

Mark is still holding the dresses when you get to the bottom of the stairs, and you look around to see what has drawn his attention. A cop car has pulled up and Tony is stepping out of it. You pause, and he does a double take. You stare at each other for a moment. “What are you doing here?” Tony asks. 

You quell the nervousness in your stomach. You haven’t done anything wrong. Walking towards Mark’s car you respond, “I’m picking up some of my stuff. I left my key outside your door.”

“You can’t take my stuff!” Tony protests, walking forward. 

“It’s my stuff, actually,” you respond, daring yourself not to take a step back. “I thought you were in jail waiting for your trial.” 

“I made bail,” Tony responds. You nod, remembering that his dad is filthy rich. Officer Mastley walks around the cop car and you are glad to see him there. 

“Is there a problem?” he asks, watching Tony walk toward you and Mark. 

Tony turns half around, still walking towards you. “Officer, they’re stealing my stuff!” 

You scoff, “Tony, I have never known you to cross-dress but if you ever start, please don’t use my clothes.” You can see Officer Mastley trying to hide a smile. Tony on the other hand looks murderous, and reaches forward to take the box from you. 

A quick anger rises in you. He still doesn’t understand that he can’t control you anymore. You drop the box as he reaches you, hardly noticing it land heavily on his toes, before punching him as hard as you can in the nose. Your hand stings immediately and you shake it out as Tony falls backwards onto the pavement. He sputters, hands over his bleeding nose, looking with outrage between you and Officer Mastley. “Officer! She attacked me!”

“I didn’t see anything,” Officer Mastley responds coolly. 

You pick up the box, feeling triumph welling inside as you turn to the car where Mark is standing smugly. He opens the backseat door and you put the box in next to the pile of dresses before getting in the car. Mark starts the engine and you drive away. The last image you have of your old life is Tony lying on the pavement, holding his nose and looking after the car with a defeated expression on his face. 

“What are the chances that he would get out today of all days?” Mark comments. 

“It’s okay,” you respond. “I think it was the closure I needed. I’m leaving him for the last time, I have both shoes on my feet, and I don’t think he’s going to bug me again. Besides, my restraining order should only be pending for another week before it goes through.” Mark nods, smiling over at you. You smile back. “Can we go out for coffee?” you ask.

_____

Dan and Arin help you get everything out of the car and wave you away, promising to bring the stuff to your room. Mark drives to The Earlybird Cafe and you walk through into the familiar environment. Chris, the manager, is standing in the front and waves as you come in. “Hey, (Y/N)! Glad to see you off the crutches! Still up for starting on Monday?” 

“So ready!” you respond before ordering your coffee and finding your usual table, Mark not far behind you. 

The conversation is light at first, but in the natural pause you wonder if this is the right time to talk about things. Mark beats you to it. “So, when you were dying I kissed you,” he says without any preamble. He looks down at his coffee, obviously nervous. “We just haven’t talked about it yet, and I think we should. Is that okay?”

You nod, “I was actually going to bring up the same thing.” 

There is a pause, and Mark rubs his neck nervously, obviously picking his words with care. He looks up and meets your eyes. “I really like you. I kissed you that night because I thought I was going to loose you and I couldn’t stand never kissing you before you disappeared from my life. I still really admire you and I was wondering if you liked me back.”

His brown eyes are warm and vulnerable, waiting for your reply. You sigh, and speak the truth. “I like you too,” you admit. “But, I don’t think I’m ready for much of anything after this whole thing with Tony. I need time and I don’t want to lead you on…” you trail off, not sure what else to say. Mark is nodding.

“That’s okay, I get it.” He doesn’t look crushed or disappointed as you had expected. “I thought as much. Which is why I want to promise you that whenever you are ready for something more, I am here. Until then, we make some damn good coffee friends.” He raises his coffee to you in a salute and takes a sip, winking slightly and smiling. 

You can’t help but grin back and copy the toast. “You’re amazing. Thank you.” 

“No, you’re amazing!” he quips back, but behind his silly grin you can see genuine warmth. 

You recognize the anxiety trying creep up your throat but breathing through it and releasing the tension is getting easier. Your doubts about the future aren’t important right now because those moments aren’t in your control yet. Conversation resumes without any awkwardness and you just enjoy the company of Mark, your best friend. You don’t feel the need to disappear from the world anymore, and that’s what’s important. 

Right now, everything is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for sticking through this with me! If you have followed this story from the first chapter or have just come across it, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read it because it really means the world to me.
> 
> I know this story deals with some intense subjects and in no way am I trying to romanticize self-harm or anything like that. I just find this kind of stuff fascinating and wanted to explore the psychological effects of trauma and abuse on someone who should be diagnosed with depression. 
> 
> If you guys care to share this story with others, go ahead, but just make sure I get credit and blah blah blah. This is my way of adding to the fandom and I would like as many people to enjoy it as possible. 
> 
> As always, thanks to my sister for editing this. If you liked it, please leave kudos or a comment telling me your reactions, suggestions or questions! Any and all feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Stay awesome!


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